Whispers in the Wind
by LoriensKnight
Summary: In the north they say you could hear the voices of the Old Gods in the wind. For years they spoke only to fall on deaf ears. One man finally heard them and it changed the fate of the world.
1. Chapter 1

**Well here it is, Whispers in the Wind, the official rewrite of A Song Unsung. I'm sorry to those who liked ASU. I liked it too but it was everywhere and I lost sight of where it was going. Another reason I rewrote it was I felt that it wasn't much of an AU but merely canon with changes and since I felt it was so similar to canon I unconsciously continued to write canon with my ideas thrown in there.**

 **This story will have some of the same things but the plot will be totally different from the books/show. Now enough of that, let's get to the story.**

 **Chapter 1: Wolves Will Rise**

The lord of the north was in deep thought as he sat in his solar. His plans were coming along well. It wouldn't be much longer before the whispers of his southron ambitions ceased. Many thought he was forgetting northern traditions, preferring the south to the north, that his late maester had his ear. Walys was a decent man. He had his vices but a decent man. The man did seem a bit ambitious for a natural born maester. Nonetheless he had value but alas his southron blood could not stand the northern cold. A whisper of winter arrived in the night and disappeared into the wind with his life.

His mind drifted to those who spoke of his so called _southron_ ambitions. He felt they were fools to think such a thing. He was a Stark and in many ways being a Stark meant he was the north. The ice, the land, everything that was the north was, was within him. The blood coursing through his veins would never allow him to forget the land that bred his bloodline. His plans had brought a lot of unwanted attention towards his lands but it was necessary. Enemies were made in the south and the north but it would pay off for House Stark, and the North in the end. Now was the best time to put them into action. The realm had its attention on the birth of Prince Viserys and the tourney in Lannisport.

Rickard stood in the godswood of Winterfell. He found solace in the presence of the ancient heart tree. Immovable faith was one of the many things his father instilled within him. The Old Gods were mysterious deities. There were no physical depictions of them, no stories of their deeds. Yet their followers still held some of the strongest, unwavering faith. It was this curiosity that led to a monumental discovery.

"My lord?" Rickard broken from his thoughts turned and saw his advisor, Martyn Cassel.

The grizzled man had served him loyally for years. He was one of the few that Rickard held in high regard. Martyn was a voice of reason when he needed council, a valued asset. His voice had become the loudest after his maester passed due to a spring chill not more than a fortnight ago. Some silently rejoiced at the passing of Maester Walys but Rickard cursed, the man had his secrets but he was useful.

"Lord Eddard has arrived in company of lords Reed and Manderly."

Rickard said a silent prayer, "We best not keep them waiting."

The two men exited the sacred grounds and made their way to Winterfell's great hall. The Warden of the North entered to find his two eldest sons and Lords Umber, Reed, Dustin and Manderly. He gave a nod to Martyn, dismissing him for the moment. His grey eyes scanned the room, analyzing each inhabitant.

Brandon stood tall, proud and strong, fitting for a Stark. Even at fourteen, he was tall. Rickard sometimes worried for the boy, his wolf's blood along with the fierceness he inherited from his mother would get him in trouble if he did not learn how to control it.

Eddard's eyes were unsure. Rickard did not blame the boy. He had only spent five of the eight agreed years in the Eyrie only to be abruptly called back. The boy was nearly his identical. In almost every way Eddard seemed to mimic him, personality in all. Though Rickard was a bit more assertive than his second son, something he hoped he grew out of. He would have to for what was planned for him.

His eyes then turned to Lord Edwyn Dustin, a bear of a man. The man could be mistaken for the Umber standing next to him. Edwyn was a man that Rickard trusted and coveted as a vassal. It was one of the many reasons why he fostered Brandon with him. Lord Dustin was a man that would follow him to the ends of the earth.

The new, young Lord Umber had inherited not but a few scant days ago. The boy was only fifteen, just a year older than Brandon. Rickard went and met with Lord Jon after word of his father, the late Lord Donnell Umber fell to a band of wildling raiders.

Lord Wyman Manderly was hard to miss. The man was wide of girth but Rickard knew better than to dismiss him because of his appearance. In reality Wyman was one of, if not his most important bannermen. He and his house were a big part of his plans. The Starks and the Manderlys have long had a strong and important relationship, longer than most remember.

Last was the mysterious lord of Greywater Watch. His hauntingly green eyes shined from under his hood. Before his enlightenment Rickard never thought to venture to the neck and meet with the crannog lord. Orin Reed was an ancient man, well over eighty years. Despite his age he still moved about with the vigor of a younger man. There were many things that Rickard could not figure out about the man but one thing was true, he was devout. Rickard had learned a lot about his Gods from the man but much was still a mystery, even to the mystical Lord Reed.

"Sons, my lords, I'm sure you all have questions as to your presence here today." Rickard spoke as all eyes were on him.

Silence reigned for a few moments before Rickard spoke again, "I've called you all here because today is the day the north begins its return to prominence."

He could see his words have a different effect on those present. Fear, curiosity and even indifference from Lord Reed but Rickard knew about the man's gift. He most likely already knew what was going to be said.

"Worry not it is not treason as the king may think. I am merely securing our place in the world for the time to come. I know you've all heard the people whispering of my plans for the south. They hold some truth. I do intend to bring the south into the fold with the north but we will not let them become dominant."

"I mean no disrespect, my lord, but the south has never been good to us. How would allowing such snakes into our lands be beneficial?" Lord Edwyn asked.

"The north once stood on its own, Lord Dustin," Rickard locked eyes with the man, "And the north was forced to kneel but it was never really brought to heel, never conquered. I fear the day the dragons remember that and choose to fulfill a foolish ambition, that day may be near."

"What do you speak of, my lord?" Lord Wyman asked, speaking up.

Surprisingly it was Eddard who spoke up, "He speaks of the king and his growing madness."

All eyes were on the second born now. Eddard being uncomfortable will all the attention nearly averted his eyes but the teachings of both his father and foster father about being a man didn't allow it. Rickard sent his son an approving nod before speaking again.

"Aye, as Eddard says, King Aerys is growing madder every day. He speaks of splitting the north between Lord Bolton and I."

"Madness, the day I bow to a Bolton is the day I fly on a unicorn!" Lord Edwyn boomed.

"The king would not truly think to break what has been whole for thousands of years." Lord Wyman said aghast at the information.

"He is a fool to think it possible. I would cut him from shoulder to balls before he could give the command." Brandon said hotly.

"Aye, I'm with Lord Brandon, shoulder to balls!" The boisterous, young Umber added.

"Brandon!" Rickard hissed, "Watch your words, boy."

Brandon looked to say something else but Rickard held his icy glare. The Stark heir dropped his shoulders and relaxed his muscles. Rickard felt a similar way but his temper was far less of a problem than Brandon's. The boy was lucky he only invited those he knew were Stark men through and through.

"The sentiment is shared, my lords. The Targaryens and the Starks have never particularly gotten along. They've always thought us to be savages and below the southron lords. Even when my ancestor Cregan saved them from destruction, they spurned him. With that being said I still believe the king won't move on the north, at least not anytime soon. There are bigger problems in his own court he has to contend with and we will use that time to prepare."

"What will we do, my lord?" Lord Wyman asked.

"We will stand on our own once again but this time we will have friends." Rickard hoped his next words were taken well.

"Brandon, you are near a man grown. The time for you to do your duty is close. I have made the arrangements for your betrothal to Catelyn Tully. It gives us a strong ally and it opens trading routes for us."

Brandon only nodded, which shocked the Lord Paramount of the North. He knew of his son's free spirited adventures and his choice to chase every pretty girl he laid eyes on. His breeches would have to stay up. Lord Hoster wouldn't take well to Brandon dishonoring his daughter.

He turned to Eddard. The young boy shifted under his father's gaze. Rickard would have chuckled if the moment wasn't so serious. Eddard was nervous he would be betrothed as well. Rickard knew his time was soon as well but not quite yet.

"Not to worry, Ned, your time to be a husband is yet off. But you do have a duty and that duty is here in the north. Your time in the Eyrie is over."

Rickard felt a pang of guilt as he saw his son's face fall. It pained him and filled him with pride to see him not even protest. While it was dutiful he was still a boy, to not even question that meant Eddard was beyond his years. He knew his next words would cheer him up and hopefully loosen his stoic mask.

"It has also been agreed that Lord Robert will foster at Winterfell until it is time for him to return to Storms End."

As expected the corners of Ned's mouth slightly curved into a small smile. Rickard thought to marry his only daughter to the Baratheon boy but he couldn't do it. His late wife wouldn't want that for her, not a southron husband. He hoped the strong brotherly bond, Ned and Robert shared would be enough to survive the trouble to come.

Now it was time for his lords to do their duty to their liege lord. The north and the south would be bound in more ways than one.

"Lord Wyman I hear your son needs a wife." Rickard said to the heavy set man.

Lord Wyman nodded, "You are correct, my lord. Do you have someone in mind for Wylis?"

A small sense of elation filled Rickard. The smile Wyman wore let Rickard know that House Manderly would do its duty. At that moment he remembered something his father told him.

" _The Manderly's have owed the Starks beyond what could be paid in a mortal life, but yet our ancestor welcomed them freely and with open arms. They are forever indebted to us and because of that when we call, they will come."_

"I do, Lord Leyton Hightower is willing to marry his daughter Leyla to him."

The proposal shocked the room's occupants, sans Lord Rickard. Though the north dealt with the south as little as possible, it was widely known that the Lord of the Hightower was a recluse. The man had not left his tower in years.

Out of character, Lord Wyman looked flustered, "But, my lord, is this not a better match for young Lord Brandon. A marriage to the Hightowers would be greatly beneficial to the Starks."

"Take it as a reward for your undoubted loyalty. Though I do expect White Harbor to grow. I want the city bigger, stronger."

Rickard saw Lord Dustin shift and the creeping anger rising in the young Umber's eyes. As he had, Lord Reed had yet to speak or move.

"I have not forgotten about you my lords. Edwyn, our houses were once bitter enemies. That was thousands of years ago but yet I feel there is still an ill feeling hanging about."

"I assure you, House Stark has no need to fear any ill intent from House Dustin. The Dustins were once kings but they bowed to the better men. I would die before I betrayed you my lord." Lord Dustin said whole heartedly, his hand over his heart.

Rickard nodded, "That I know, and that is why I offer the hand of my daughter to your son."

Without looking Rickard could feel his sons stiffen. He looked to Brandon and saw his visage soften and a smile appeared on his face. Rickard knew he approved, being friends with young Lord William. Eddard's face didn't tell much but he knew there was a hint of disappointment hidden behind his chilly mask.

He turned the new Lord Umber, "My lord I have not a marriage for you but an offer of monetary gain. I have gained new allies in the trade business and I need men to guard my resources once they reach the north. The Umbers are the fiercest men I know."

The large man couldn't help but grin widely at the praise of his liege lord. While it was no marriage it was something that would help his people.

"House Umber will be honored to serve House Stark."

Rickard gave the Umber a nod and turned to Lord Reed. Feeling his Lord's gaze on him the thin man lowered his hood revealing faded white hair. He craned his neck and looked up. It took a significant amount of discipline not to jump as his green eyes seemed to glow when they met his grey ones. There was overwhelming but waning power in them.

"My lord, your people have guarded the north since the gods thought to weave the lands together. Today I ask you to keep your eyes south, for the rise of the north will surely draw attention of dragons."

"You've no need to ask, my lord. Before all, my blood swore to yours our forever undying loyalty. The Old Gods look down on House Stark with favor. The dragons will look but find nothing."

His voice was weak, barely above a whisper but it carried throughout the hall. As the last waves of his voice exited the hall a hum of wind entered as if the Gods were sending their approval.

Rickard sighed in relief. The starting stages were done. He had secured what he needed outside of the north now it was time to strengthen his lands and its people.

"That is all for today, my lords. The servants will show you to your rooms."

They bowed before leaving to get some rest. What they learned today was quite taxing. Rickard dropped in his seat in exhaustion, thinking himself to be alone.

"Father?" The Stark Patriarch snapped his head up, startled by Eddard's quite approach.

"What is it, Ned?" Rickard asked trying to hide his tiredness.

"Why was I called here, if I was not gaining a betrothal?"

"You need to know the North and the North needs to know you. Now it has been a long day, son and it's time to retire to your room."

Ned nodded before leaving his father alone. Rickard sighed, a lot was going on. The entirety of the North was on his shoulders and he wasn't sure if he could carry it for much longer. Feeling the exhaustion begin to take him, Rickard quickly made way to his chambers. Soon his clothes were off and sleep had taken him.

The sun had risen and the cool crisp morning air invaded his room. Rickard awoke to find the sun higher than he'd liked. He had overslept, not by much but nonetheless he had kept his guests waiting. Swiftly putting on his casual garments, grey pants and a white doublet with a direwolf embroidered on it. His sons and his lords were waiting for him when he arrived in the great hall.

"Father."

"My lord."

Came the chorused greeting. Rickard nodded before going to sit at the head of the small table. Today was a new day but still much was to be done.

"Sons, my lords, I hope you all had a good night's sleep." They all nodded affirmatively.

They spoke of old times, times of peace but somehow they began to tell old war stories. Lord Rickard had begun to tell his tale of the War of Ninepenny Kings.

"I watched as Lord Ormund was cut down. Steffon dropped to his knees and cradled his father. I cut down every man who dared interrupt their last moments together. Eventually I had to drag Steffon away."

"What of Maelys Blackfyre, was he as hideous as they say?" Brandon asked.

"Aye, a fell beast rejected by the gods. Hideous he may have been but a damned good warrior."

"I remember seeing Ser Barristan cut him down. A thousand cheers roared and the war was won." Lord Dustin said adding his own memories.

The room went silent for a moment. The talk of war brought upon worry of the impending madness of the current dragon on the throne.

"Lord Stark, you want White Harbor to grow." Lord Wyman stated, more than questioned.

"I do, we need more trade. Along with the city I plan to raise on the west coast, I want White Harbor to thrive. Whalers from Ibben, Merchants from Braavos, the north will see expansion."

"A city on the west coast, where and who will command it, father?" Eddard asked.

"The Stony Shore, Lord Frost will be given command of the old Fisher keep. He served well in the war and has done a fine job of fighting back raiders."

Eating was done and now it was time to get his day started. Before he did anything else, Rickard dismissed himself and went to the godswood. Once again he found himself in front of the heart tree. He bowed his head and closed his eyes as he placed a hand on the tree. Having contact with the vessel of the Gods made Rickard feel a stronger connection to them.

"I've come to you today with a humble request. I fear there are those that wish doom on Westeros. There a feeling in my being that tells of war. I know it is coming, I only request that we are warned before fire rains down on us."

Removing his hand he stood up. A soft wind blew across the ancient grounds. Rickard felt a small amount of relief, a minuscule amount of weight lifted off his shoulders. Feeling energized he exited the godswood and found Martyn waiting for him. Like always Rickard went off to handle his business with Martyn following behind him.

 **There it is, the first chapter of Whispers in the Wind. As you can see the first change has happened, Maester Walys died earlier than usual. Many more changes are coming, I assure you. I want to warn you. I plan on making this a true AU, almost if not unrecognizable when compared to the books. This is not A Song of Ice and Fire or A Game of Thrones but Whispers in the Wind.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: A Brother Lost**

 **Guest:** _Yes I got so lost writing that story. I wisely keep precise notes for this one. I can tell you that Winter will be back. You'll see some things from the previous story. Whether they are characters or ideas._

 **Pop:** _Thank you, I love(d) ASU too but this one is going to be better._

 **grannybe:** _Thanks, I'll be updating this regularly as I have up to chapter seven already done. I hope you are happy with what I put out._

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Eddard could only look in amazement as he spotted the newest city of the North. It had been two years since Cold March had been built. The city boomed with trade on the west coast. Fruit from the reach, precious metals from the Westerlands and other goods from within the north came in and out of the city.

Ned trotted behind his brother as they entered the city. His horse whinnied as people brushed passed it trying to tend to their own business. The Stark brothers had business of their own. Their father had tasked them with tracking the progress of the growth of the North. He sent twenty men with them, including Jory Cassel, Martyn's only surviving son, but that was months ago. They had already been to Seal Shore to check the new port. Unfortunately trade wasn't as good due to the Free Cities unwillingness to break trade from the iron throne. Their last destination would be Moat Cailin. But for now their business was with Lord Frost.

"Ned," The second son turned to his elder brother, "We best not keep Lord Frost waiting. He's been expecting us."

"Aye, that would be best."

As fast as they could they made it to the former Fisher keep, now named Winterhold. It was quite the sight to see. It was no wonder the Fishers ruled as kings. Two walls protected its front, wrapping around the castle like strong arms. The first wall stood shorter than the one behind it. Ned surmised that it was for watchmen and archers. The wall closest to the castle stood high, almost touching the heavens. He felt a subtle power trickling from the runes engraved in the stone. Ballistae, scorpions and other heavy ranged weapons lined the walls.

" _How did my ancestors take this castle?"_ He wondered in disbelief.

Outside the great keep stood two men with pale blond hair and dazzling amber eyes. The taller of the two had broad shoulders and looked to be muscled under his doublet bearing the frozen winged sword of House Frost. His long hair was tied up in a small ponytail. Ned could tell he was a first son. He had the same confident aura around him as Brandon.

The one next to him was shorter by an inch or two. He was much thinner than the man next to him. His clothes were much the same.

"My lords, it is a great honor to host the sons of our liege." The older of the two greeted the Stark brothers as they dropped from their mounts.

"Who might you be friend?" Brandon asked.

"Apologies, I am Edric Frost, eldest and heir of Cold March." He then turned to the younger man, "This is my brother, Jonos."

"My father is waiting for us, this way my lords."

Lord Frost sat in the high chair as they entered. Like his sons he had the whitish blond hair and amber eyes of their house. A grizzled beard lined the edge of his face, near white due to his age. Walton Frost was an aged man, seeing both many battles and many days of peace.

When he was chosen to command the new city, he humbly accepted. Ned knew nothing of the man but stories of his ferocity in battle. Some say he blanks and lets the old gods guide him.

"The sons of Rickard Stark in my home." The man said with a small smile, "We've much to discuss."

The group of men sat down at the dais. Now it was time to discuss business. If they were to stay on schedule they needed to be gone by first light the next day.

"So, Lord Frost, how goes the trade business?" Brandon asked.

"Better than we expected. King Aerys has yet to block trade from the reach and westerlands. Lord Hightower has graciously opened his trading routes with us. I'm sure Lord Stark will appreciate the gains we've gotten recently."

"But success is not without challenge." Edric said speaking up.

Ned and Brandon perked up. If there was trouble their father had given them authority to solve it. He told them the north couldn't afford to be set back.

"Has something happened that we need to know?" Brandon asked.

Eddard remained silent, this was Brandon's duty. He had only come along to make sure Brandon didn't let his temper get the best of him.

Edric looked reluctant but an approving nod from his father allowed him to speak.

"There have been attacks on merchant ships from the south."

"What, why haven't we been informed of this!?" The Stark heir's raised voice made Lord Frost lift an eyebrow.

"Brandon," Eddard said placing a calming hand on his brother's arm, "I'm sure Lord Frost has his reasons."

Brandon sat back in his seat and looked to Lord Frost to begin speaking. The old lord respectfully kept his gaze.

"I do, the attacks were insignificant. They were easily repelled but soon they became more frequent and eventually started to occur on land as well. The last attack was well over moon ago, so I thought not to worry Lord Stark with such a thing."

"My father will still have to hear of this. He wants to know about everything."

"As he should, now enough of that. Let's enjoy the food my cooks have prepared for us."

Brandon eagerly nodded and began eating his food. Ned silently ate while the others held a conversation. He watched as his brother easily entertained the Frost men. Brandon was made to be heir, he was one the people loved, noble and smallfolk alike. Though for some reason his father had been teaching him whatever Brandon learned. Ned still expected to be in the Vale with Jon and Robert.

Here he was touring the north and Robert had left to the Free Cities with his father. Their meeting was soon done. Eddard followed Brandon as they were led to their chambers for the night. Ned sighed as he watched his brother ask the man guiding them about one of the serving women. Ned waited until they were alone to voice his concerns.

"Brandon, do you think it wise to visit her chambers?"

"Bugger, Ned, I'm not married yet." Brandon waved a dismissing hand.

"Father nor Lord Tully would appreciate this. I will not let you sully the Stark name because of your weakness for women."

Two years ago he would have been surprised with himself. Since coming back north his father had hardened him. He was still quiet but his father has sort of trained him to be an enforcer of his will, at least with Brandon.

Brandon turned with ice in his eyes, "So—?

A knock stopped Brandon mid-sentence, "My lords, there is a man here with urgent news."

"Let him in." Brandon told their guard.

The door opened and revealed one of their guards, William and another man. The man bore the Frost sigil on his arm. He looked to be out of breath. Brandon nodded to him giving him permission to speak.

"My—my lords, I've been sent to fetch you."

"Is everything alright?" Brandon asked.

"No, my lords, there has been another attack on a convoy coming from Rydon's Port."

Before another word could be said Brandon blew by the fatigued man. Eddard and William were quick to follow. The rest of their guard soon met them along with Lord Frost and his sons.

"I thought the attacks had ceased?" Eddard asked.

"Aye, me too, my lord but it seems they've yet to learn." The lord of the Stony Shore didn't look worried at all.

"The good news is the convoy made it back safe, but we did lose a few men."

"How do we know we are being attacked by the same people?" Eddard asked. His mind was moving through multiple scenarios. He was suspicious of the sudden attack. Something about seemed off.

"The captain of the men guarding the convoy reported it." Lord Frost answered as they ventured through the keep.

"Who is this captain?" Brandon asked.

The group stopped and Lord Frost pointed towards a giant of a man. A fresh cut trailed from his the bottom of his neck to his navel. Blood leaked out of the wound as the maester tried to clean it only to be pushed back by the man. The poor man had to be helped up by the guardsmen.

"I said I'm fine, you goats arse!"

"Dorren Umber, my lords." Lord Frost announced loud enough for the Umber man to hear.

The Umber man looked up in surprise but quickly straightened himself. Eddard eyed the man trying to figure out who he was. He knew of Lord Jon, who had become a good friend of his. There were also his uncles Mors and Hother but not this man.

"I would let the maester tend to your wound, lest you want it to fester." Brandon told him.

"No offence, my lord but I've had worse. I need to get out there and find those bastards that killed my men."

"A ghost chase, you yourself should know that Dorren." Lord Frost said.

Ned and Brandon looked at the man with confusion on their faces. The logical thing to do would be to scout the area to make sure they were gone.

"They're gone, my lords, I assure you. Many times we've chased after them only for them to disappear. A lesson is learned after so many mistakes."

The Stark boys only nodded at the wisdom of the aged lord. Eddard knew Brandon wanted to protest but he kept his mouth shut. They nodded to Lord Frost telling him they would speak later before their departure.

Brandon seemed to shrink as he sat down on his bed. Ned followed and stood in front of his brother. He looked down in concern. Brandon looked like he had a massive weight on his back as he sat hunched over.

"You know Ned, sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you were born first."

Eddard bit back a gasp. He had the same thoughts, though he was sure Brandon's were more justified. The life of a second son was not near as difficult as that of a first.

"The gods honored you with being the first son and heir of the North. Why would you want any different?"

"I would not change it but it doesn't hurt to think, brother." Brandon stood up, back to his usual self.

Ned didn't believe the smile on his brother's face. Brandon was a flawed man in many ways but he always tried to keep his younger siblings happy. In that sense Ned looked up to him. Being able to bear the weight of the North and keep a smile on his face all the while.

"We have a long day ahead of us. Go get some sleep and we'll meet in the morning." Ned nodded and exited his brother's room.

He was tired but his mind was moving too fast to go straight to sleep. He found it odd for these men to get close enough to their ships let alone their convoys on their land. Something was off about the whole thing. He felt that there was more to it, only he didn't know what. His body seemed to be against his choice to stay up as he felt exhaustion take him. His eyelids fell shut and sleep took him.

The morning sun reached its arms into his room and woke him with a warm embrace. Eddard groaned as he sat up. Today would be a long day. An early one too as he heard a loud knock at the door. Opening the door he found Brandon there, still slightly asleep but fully dressed.

"What has happened?

Brandon offered a folded piece of parchment. Eddard quickly took it in his hand. Locking his eyes on the paper and reading every word. He read it three times before taking his eyes off of it.

The news hit Eddard like a charging auroch. He didn't know how it could happen. A man he had come to know as a brother had been expelled from their homeland.

"It's Robert, he's been stripped of his titles and land. He's on a boat back to the Free Cities as we speak."

Brandon was wide awake now, "What, why would the king do such a thing? To his cousin no less."

"Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana are dead and Robert says the king is to blame. They were killed in Volantis, assassinated Robert says. He sailed back to King's Landing and demanded answers. After voicing his accusations the king exiled him."

"I'm sorry Ned, he was like a brother to me too." Brandon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Ned remained silent for a moment before steeling himself, "He is only exiled, he is alive and I am thankful for that."

"Aye, maybe he'll be happier. He did always speak of forming his own sellsword company."

That thought cheered Ned up a bit. Robert did always complain about the responsibilities of being a first born son. Maybe he could go visit him one day.

"This won't sit well with the lords of the stormlands. Whenever Robert returned home the lords were fighting over who got to host him. The king weakens his grip on the seven kingdoms each day."

"That he does brother. Let us hope he doesn't turn his mad eyes towards the north."

"If the gods allow it, he will leave the north to its own. Speaking of, we have a trip to make." Eddard announced still reeling from the news. He hoped the cool northern air would keep his mind off of things.

The men of Winterfell gathered at the gates of Cold March. Lord Frost and his sons had already bid them farewell. The gates opened and their party was off. It would be a long ride, almost a moons turn to get to Moat Cailin.

The trip was uneventful. The rode and rested for a month. The Stark party stopped at Barrowton along the way. Their stay was a short one but a nice get away from the saddle. On arrival they stopped and marveled at the restoration of the ancient stronghold. Eight of the seventeen fallen towers had been rebuilt. With the three restored towers that still stood, it brought the grand total to eleven of the former twenty towers. Even unfinished Ned thought it impenetrable.

He pictured the armies of the iron throne being slaughtered trying to take it. He knew it was a treasonous thought but as the days went on the whispers of the king looking north became louder. If the king ever thought to do anything foolish it would be bad but the north would be ready for it.

Removing the dark thoughts he stepped down from his horse. Brandon had already begun moving towards the nearest tower. It was one of the rebuilt towers, dubbed the forest tower. Ned could see the reasoning behind the name as he caught a glimpse of large trees in the distance. There were still many men scrambling around working on whatever they were assigned to. So much was going on. The remaining nine towers were being built, with new improvements. Ballistae, scorpions and other defense siege weapons. Ned thought the stronghold was fine with just the towers but his father told him the future was unknown. Eddard didn't really understand what he meant but agreed nonetheless.

They would be there for a day or so before they finished inspecting the progress of the rebuilding process. Then he would be able to return home. Though he was worried. There was a pit in his stomach that had been there since the news of Robert's exile but the dark feeling was growing. He tried to ignore it as the cool northern wind slid across his face, relaxing him.

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 **I know these first chapters are short but they're just setting up the really big chapter coming up. Chapter seven will be the start of the AGOT timeline. I plan on that being a massive chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Tourney of the century**

Rickard could not believe he had allowed himself to come to this dreaded place. Harrenhall was said to be cursed. He knew the old gods held little power in the south but he felt nothing of them here. The prince was a fool to call all of the Lord Paramounts to one place. The king would surely find it suspicious. He had to be either a brave fool or mad to be so open with his plans of usurping. He had already spotted the falcon of Arryn, the rose of Tyrell, and the stag of Baratheon, even the sun and spear of House Martell. Tywin Lannister was not to be attending. In his stead he sent his brother, Ser Kevan. Rickard guessed the man was still loyal to Aerys, even after all the slights. The king himself had other things to worry about in the capital.

Rickard himself thought not to come. But his children had pestered him to come. Brandon and Lyanna to see the south. Eddard wisely told him it would be a great chance to see what was going on in the south. A great sense of pride filled him at that moment. Ever since the boy returned from the Eyrie, Rickard had been grooming him to be his brother's backbone. Like his great uncle Artos was to his grandfather William. So far Eddard had impressed.

His bones ached as he watched the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree send Ser Barristan to the ground. The knight was of the north, he knew but he strictly forbade any of his men from entering the lists. Over the seven days of jousting the knight had defeated many notable knights. Ser Oswell Whent was one of them. Looking around he found all three of his children oddly missing. He cursed as he saw Prince Rhaegar striding towards him. Two kingsguard flanked him. He recognized them as Ser Arthur Dayne, the deadliest knight of the realm and the previously defeated Ser Oswell Whent.

"Lord Stark, it is my pleasure to meet you." The silver prince said offering his mailed hand.

Rickard respectfully shook his hand, "The pleasure is mine."

Rickard eyed the boy. He analyzed every fiber of his being. If he was to commit treason, he would make sure it was the right choice. He would not displace one mad dragon for another. At first glance he seemed to be everything the realm said he was. But there was something telling Rickard he was no different than his father. After all, Rickard had seen Aerys before his descent into the dark side of Targaryen history.

"May I ask the name of that knight?" Rhaegar asked referring to the mysterious challenger.

"You may but I'm afraid he is not a part of my party." Rickard truthfully told him.

Rhaegar titled his head slightly. As did his two guards. Rickard saw the disappointment on his face.

"The knight is clearly of the north." Ser Oswell said, annoyance hidden in his tone.

Rickard turned an indifferent gaze to the man. Ser Oswell remained wearing a similar look of nonchalance.

"Excuse me."

"You say the knight is not with you. But who else would take a heart tree as their sigil other than a northman?"

Inwardly Rickard was surprised at the forwardness of the kingsguard. On the outside his face morphed into an icy visage.

"I believe you forget your place, Ser. You have no right to question me." Rickard spoke in a strong, authoritative voice, no aggression.

Ser Oswell's face scrunched up in and he opened his mouth to say something but the prince beat him to it.

"My lord, peace. Ser Oswell meant nothing by it." Rhaegar sent the Whent knight a look, "I suppose I will have to find this knight myself."

The Lord of Winterfell watched the trio walk away. Even if the knight wasn't part of his party he was of the north. Rickard wanted to know who it was and he had to find out who it was before the prince. He turned to Martyn.

"I need to know who that knight is and why he disobeyed me." He hissed.

Martyn nodded and left in search of the man in question. Rickard turned his focus back to the jousting. He turned just in time to see a knight of House Whent be unhorsed. The hosting house was not doing so well. The rest of the jousting matches were nothing to remember. Now it was time for the night festivities.

Rickard sat in wait. Martyn had yet to return, neither had his children. His bones began aching again telling him it was time to rest. He stood up, stretching his old body. Turning to one of his guards he commanded the man to find his children. Not much time passed before he brought them back. With them was the young Lord Howland Reed. Orin's son was young, near the same age as Eddard. The boy was small and thin like his father.

"You all missed the jousts."

Rickard quirked an eyebrow as Brandon and Lyanna smirked. They sent what they believed to be an unseen look at Ned and Howland. Ned maintained a straight face. Howland averted his gaze from his liege lord's when Rickard looked his way. Something had happened and Rickard would know but now wasn't the time. He saw Martyn standing behind them. He would deal with them later.

"I will be retiring for the night," He put on his lord's face, "Behave yourselves and remember, the south is no place for a Stark."

He received a nod and the children were off. He nodded to Martyn and began making his way to his quarters. Rickard and Martyn stood alone in his room Lord Whent graciously provided.

"What did you find out?"

Martyn revealed what he had found out. By the end of it Rickard did not know whether to be angry or proud. Nonetheless there was a minute sense of pride in him.

He shook his head, "I'll leave it be for now. At least the prince did not find out."

"Well, my lord," Martyn began causing Rickard to groan, "I do not know if the prince made it there before me. The armor had already been taken off."

Rickard resisted the urge to groan again. It was unbefitting of him. He needed to control his emotions. Taking deep breaths he relaxed himself.

"That is all for the night, Martyn," He said dismissing the man before stopping him, "Oh and do please make sure my children don't make any more trouble."

Martyn smirked but nodded. The Stark patriarch watched his most loyal soldier walk out the door. As soon as the door shut he collapsed on his bed. He was growing tired of the tourney. They had never interested him much. Southerners loved to show off, be it materially or physically.

Sleep crept upon him like a shadowcat on the prowl. He didn't fight it as the sweet, cool embrace of sleep took hold of him.

The night air was warm. Ned walked alongside his siblings and Lord Howland Reed. They had an eventful day. Ned watched as Brandon worked his charms on the daughter of Lord Whent, the reigning queen of love and beauty. Lyanna had already disappeared into the crowd to do gods know what. Ned's could feel his heart almost stop as he laid eyes on the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

She was slender of build but not thin. The dress she wore hugged every curve on her body. Her long dark hair cascaded down past her shoulders. Then there were her eyes. They were a mesmerizing violet. He felt himself becoming lost in them. A goddess on earth, she truly was.

"Something about this place is bad." He heard Howland say after snapping out of his trance.

He turned to the crannog lord, "Aye, something unnatural. The sooner we head back north, the better."

He turned his attention back the woman only to see Brandon there. His heart sunk as she smiled at whatever his brother was saying. Ned tried to put on his lord's face as he saw Brandon striding towards him.

"Don't be so sour, little brother." Brandon said, seeing right through his mask.

Ned remained quiet. He had nothing to say. Brandon was first born and heir. He would always get what he wanted.

"If you keep making that face you'll scare away the pretty woman I got to dance with you." Ned jerked up at the mention of a woman. Brandon wore a grin as he pointed towards the woman he spotted only moments before.

"Truly, she will dance with me?" Ned asked, Brandon wasn't one to give up a pretty lady.

"I can't have them all to myself. I am to be married. Now go before she finds another." Ned looked back to the woman as Brandon walked away.

His insides tingled when he saw her smile his way. He nervously took a step towards her, then another. The world around him seemed to disappear. As if the gods were smiling down on her a thin veil of light appeared around her. He straightened himself as he stood in front of her.

"Eddard Stark, my lady." He offered his hand.

She smiled and placed her hand atop his, "Ashara Dayne, my lord."

Eddard planted a soft kiss on her hand. Lifting his head he once again found himself lost in her eyes. There was something about them that drew him in. A certain warmth that made him feel like everything was alright. It was an odd feeling to have about someone he had just met.

"My lord?" A crimson hue painted her cheeks as the northern lord gazed into her eyes.

Ned felt the heat rise in his own cheeks. He looked away to avoid Ashara seeing him blush. Quickly steadying himself he asked her she wanted to dance.

"It would be an honor, my lord."

"Ned, call me Ned, my lady." He said as he led her towards the dancing area.

"Then I am Ashara, Ned." She smiled a smile that could melt the wall.

They remained silent as they began dancing. They found themselves feeling just right in each other's arms. Ashara was the first to break the silence.

"Is it true what they say about the north?"

Ned's face scrunched up in confusion. There were many rumors of the north in the south. Not many held any amount of truth.

"What might that be, my la—Ashara?"

"There are whispers of treason." She stopped herself, letting silence speak for her.

Ned was slightly taken aback by her boldness. Pulling back, his eyes steeled. He knew the king had no trust in his father but to openly spread such things was madness. He felt the need to tread lightly. A goddess on earth she may be, but a stranger nonetheless.

Ashara held his gaze. An apologetic look appeared on her face as she recognized the insulted look.

"I apologize if I have offended you, Ned. But the words of the people of the kingdom are hard to ignore."

Surprising her, Ned pulled her back towards his body, "I assure you, the north remains loyal."

She smiled, then nodded before laying her head on his shoulder. Time flew by as they danced together. They would have danced into the morning if not for Howland. In truth Ned had forgotten his friend. The second son of the North reluctantly left his dornish dance partner. He and Howland retired for the night. That night Ned peacefully fell asleep with Ashara on his mind.

* * *

The next morning Ned awoke to an empty tent. He assumed Howland went off to pray. After dressing and readying himself for the day Ned made his way to his father's quarters. He found Brandon there but no Lyanna.

"Where is Lyanna?" He asked, waiting for either his father or Brandon to answer.

"We do not know. She was not in her room. Father sent some men to look for her." Brandon answered.

"Today is the last day of the tourney. Rhaegar will no doubt want to gather the lords afterwards. I will see what he has to say and we will go from there."

Brandon and Ned nodded. Ned didn't know what to expect from the man they called the silver prince. Never having met the man, he only heard of him in passing. Though the way the people talked about him it seemed like there would be a new king on the iron throne soon.

His father dismissed them. Brandon went on about his own business. Ned only had one thought in mind, he had to find Ashara. They barely spoke when they danced the night before. He wanted to know more about her. Morning festivities had already begun. The area was already flooded with people. It was crowded, he could barely see ahead of him. It was this reason that Ned never saw the man standing in front of him. He only heard a grunt as he bumped into something hard. He stumbled but he managed to keep his footing. Standing back up he offered a hand to whomever he knocked down.

"Watch where you're going." A thin man said scowling at him.

Ned's eyes slightly widened as he saw the sigil on the man's chest. It was the stag of House Baratheon, Robert's house. Only it had been altered. The stag now stood within a flaming heart.

He took a good look at the man he knocked down as he stood up. He saw the same black hair and blue eyes. The man stood a few inches taller than Ned. He saw the man grind his teeth in annoyance.

"We could have you thrown in the dungeons. You've just assaulted the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands." Another one of his guards said.

Ned opened his mouth to say something but a familiar voice interrupted him.

"And you've just threatened the son of the Lord Paramount of the North." His father and his men stood behind him.

The man slightly shrunk under the gaze of his father. His father wasn't the biggest of men but he had the power to make giants feel like children. Ned hoped someday he could do the same.

"Stand down," The Baratheon told his men. He looked back towards Ned and his father, reaching out his hand, "Stannis Baratheon."

Rickard took his hand first, "Rickard Stark and this is my son Eddard."

"The famous Eddard Stark," Stannis said with a hint of bitterness, "Whenever my brother came home he never stopped talking of his _brother_ Eddard."

"Robert was one to tell tales." Ned said as images of his fostering with Robert passed through his head.

"Robert was a fool and now he is gone."

Ned bit back an angry retort as he watched the man walk away. Focused on the bitter words he failed to see the hurt in the younger man's eyes. He felt a calming hand on his shoulder. Turning to look at his father he saw his gaze elsewhere but he voiced his discomfort anyway.

"How can he talk of his brother like that?"

"Family may not be to him what it is to us." Was all Rickard said before walking away to do whatever he had planned.

Ned failed to notice two things. The copper haired woman staring at him, and Howland sneaking up next to him. The woman seemed to meld into the Baratheon entourage. Howland silently stood by Ned's side. So when the small lord spoke Ned nearly jumped in fright.

"I believe someone is looking for you."

"Gods, Howland, don't do that," A veiled smirk appeared across Howland's face, "Who is looking for me?"

"Your, shining star." He said nodded his head ahead of them.

Just like the day before Ned felt his body go erratic before calming to a perfect harmony. She looked even more beautiful under sunlight. Not wanting to lose her in the crowd he quickly made his way to her. She spotted him coming towards her. His anger forgotten as she smiled at him.

"My lady—." She cut him off.

"It is Ashara, remember, Ned." She said playfully.

Ned looked abashed, "My apologies, Ashara. Have you eaten yet?"

"No I have not. Are you inviting me to breakfast, Ned?"

"Aye, I am." He answered Starkly.

Ned looked in confusion as Ashara released a giggle. She took his hand and began dragging him towards the dining area. The tables were already full making it hard to find a seat for one person, let alone three. Fortunately Ned was the son of a lord paramount, who had their own tables.

Ned picked a hearty meal of fried eggs, bacon and toast. Ashara only chose to have fruit. Howland chose fruit, and toast.

"Since I am only told that the north is barren and full of savages." Ned and Howland frowned at her words but she hurriedly continued.

"How about you tell me of the true north and its people."

Ned smiled, "Gladly, the north may seem barren but she is not. The ground is hard and the air is cold but that's why we northmen are so tough. We are born of a land that doesn't give so easily but she takes as she wants. Even after thousands of years she is still raw and untapped. She is vast, there is so much more than we use. A southerner wouldn't last too long in our home."

"Aye, not even a summer." Howland added with a smile.

"Well we might just find out." Ashara said scooting closer to Ned.

Ned nearly spit the food in his mouth out. He turned red at the implications of her words. Ashara nearly burst out laughing. Even Howland let loose a low laugh. He quickly changed the subject as thoughts of the future flashed in his mind.

"So, tell me of your family. The Daynes of Starfall are of the old blood like House Stark." Ned said, not understanding what it actually meant.

"There's not much to tell. There is Alm, Arthur, little Allyria and I. My father has been sick for as long as I can remember."

Ned could see the fear and pain develop in her eyes as she spoke of her father.

"What of your mother?" He asked trying to steer her away from that sadness. But his plan seemingly failed as he saw something glisten in the corner of her eye.

"My mother died when I was but a small girl. I barely remember her face."

A lone tear trickled down her face. Ned could see the immense sadness upon her face. But it quickly went away as she perked up. Wiping her face she turned to him.

"Tell me of your family, I'm sure they're much more exciting."

His lips formed into a thin smile. He was sure they were. They spent the rest of breakfast swapping stories and getting to know each other. Soon it was time for the final round of jousting to begin. With Ashara on his arm and Howland at his side, Ned traveled to the stands. He found a spot beside his father. Brandon sat just below them. Lyanna sat to his father's direct right with his father's men surrounding her. Ned shook his head. For his father to have to resort to such measures Lyanna must have made him angry.

The day went on and many men were eliminated. There only stood four men left to compete for total victory. The mysterious knight from the day before was missing. There was question what to do with his opponent, Ser Garth Hightower. The man surprisingly took his prize and returned to his family. Unsurprisingly Ser Arthur Dayne had carved through the competition. Ashara cheered the loudest for her brother. His opponent was none other than the crown prince himself, a man he was supposed to protect.

The cheers went silent as the two placed themselves on opposite ends. A deathly silence fell over the area. Not even a sigh of wind. Suddenly the hammering of hooves filled the air. Arthur's pale mare pounded against the ground. Even at the speed his horse was moving Rhaegar seemed to move with grace. Eddard saw a slight weakness in the prince's position. His body leaned forward adding power for the strike to come, too much power. Eddard silently waited for Arthur to send the prince tumbling. But it never came.

Arthur moved his lance too far inside and only manage to scrape Rhaegar's chest plate. Ned stared in confusion. Maybe he had saw wrong. It was happening at such speed that he could have missed something. Certainly Ser Arthur had more honor than that.

They charged three more times before Rhaegar shattered his lance against Arthur's white armor. Arthur was sent tumbling to the ground. Ned was still unsure of the prince's win. He saw Ashara jump as her brother hit the ground.

"He is fine, Ser Arthur has done this many times." Ned said in an attempt to console her.

"I know but I will never get used to it."

A roaring cheer erupted from the crowd as Rhaegar took the winter rose crown in his hands. Smiles were abundant, everyone seemed happy. Rhaegar rode to crown his wife queen of love and beauty. All cheers ceased and all smiles died as he passed his wife and put the crown on Lyanna. After that everything was a blur.

His father instantly stood up with the wrath of winter behind his eyes. Before anything could happen he ordered anyone of the north to get their things and leave. In a scramble the entirety of the northern party obeyed. Ned barely had time to say goodbye to Ashara, only promising that he would see her again. Before the words goodbye left his mouth her lips crashed into his. A playful yet sad smile sat on her face as she walked away.

 **Here is the Tourney at Harrenhall chapter. I hope you guys liked it. It was one of the things I just couldn't bring myself to take out. Though some things did still happen differently (Rickard attended!). Until next time, Lknight out.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Ascension of kings**

 **I just want to thank everybody for giving my story a chance. It seems to be growing popular quite fast. The updating won't come as fast after this chapter as I'm changing some things around and I like to have at least four chapters pre-written and at the moment I only have two more after this chapter. Ask, review, just let me know what you guys think. It's easier to write knowing it's being anticipated but even if it isn't I'll continue to write. On to the story my readers.**

 **mpowers045, pop, birdy and gostrow: Thanks, I'll do my best to keep it up. I enjoy writing this because there's so much more me in this story than in ASU.**

 **Guest: Yes I did, i have a habit of being sneaky.**

 **Bountyx: I'm glad you like it. I believe a political Stark is one of the most dangerous things ever created. The start was something I always wondered about. Maester Walys clearly was a big part in Rickard's actions.**

 **H0110wl0rde15: Rhaegar is indeed a bastard.**

* * *

Long had he stood beside the Targaryens. He had donned the white cloak and swore an oath of protection, obedience and secrecy. He had forsaken honor for the good of the realm. He had sworn Rhaegar as his king. Now was the time for it to be known. Rhaegar had spirited away the Stark girl. Arthur had wanted to tell his friend he was being foolish, that what he was doing was not right. But he had not. How he wished he did. Three men had died and a fourth left on death's door, if he had not already succumbed to his wounds.

After taking the girl Rhaegar was foolish enough to remain in the Riverlands. Word of the Stark girl's disappearance had gotten north. Rickard Stark had sent his son to find his sister. After only a month of searching somehow Brandon Stark had found them. Lord Darry had graciously allowed them to use one of his smaller keep to hide in. It was away from civilization but yet Stark and his party found them. It was Arthur himself who warned the prince of their proximity. Rhaegar's next words were only of death. The prince personally rode with them. In the dead of the night they brought death and only that. None had known of the prince's involvement, not even Lyanna. That was subject to change. Arthur had pulled away last minute as he slid his blade across Elbert Arryn's stomach. The hesitation allowed him the boy to live, even if only for a few more days. At first he thought it as a start to regaining his soul but Rhaegar wouldn't allow it. That night would haunt him until the rest of his days.

Shaking from the dark memories Arthur now stood with his king as he read a letter from King Aerys. The dornish knight knew something was amiss as Rhaegar's face twisted into a frown. The man moved his hair from in front of his face and turned to Arthur.

"He's ordered me to court."

"I will go with you." Arthur told him.

Rhaegar snapped his head around, "No, you along with Oswell and Richard will take Lyanna to the tower."

Arthur's eyes widened. His king could not be serious. Surely he knew of the danger that awaited him at his father's court. Though the king hated the Starks, he wouldn't miss the chance to smear Rhaegar's name. Arthur scoffed, Rhaegar would put himself at risk for a girl, a young girl.

"You cannot go to court alone, your grace. Aerys is your father but he is not the man he once was."

The silver prince sighed. A bad habit he had recently picked up.

"I will send for Jon, he will bring men. But Lyanna needs my best men with her. With the men of the North and Riverlands looking for her, she'll need it."

The secret king sent a bright smile at his longtime friend. It was the same smile that had captured the support of his allies.

"The light shines bright on me, my friend. Do not worry for me." Arthur inwardly sighed, another quote from his false religion. Rhaegar had changed but he would not leave his side, no matter the weight on his soul. He made an oath.

"Keep my wife and child safe."

Arthur knew Rhaegar would not change his mind. He did what only he could, he nodded. It was his duty to not only protect his king but to obey him. Lady Lyanna and the prince in her belly would fall to no harm under his watch.

Arthur followed Rhaegar as he left. He was no doubt going to speak with the Stark girl. Arthur truly did not know if either truly loved the other. Rhaegar disguised his want to fill his prophecies as love. Lyanna mistook her childish rebellion as love. In the end Arthur knew it would not end well. The sun had begun to rise when Rhaegar finally exited the room.

"We leave at once." Rhaegar didn't spare his guard a look as he walked by him.

Lyanna Stark followed behind him like a lovesick puppy. The kingsguard followed dutifully behind his king. His brothers joined them and soon they were off. King's Landing was a fortnight away.

As they rode a bad feeling crept up his spine. There was a dark pit in his stomach. In the recent years he had been tainted with darkness, both on Rhaegar's and his father's orders.

The trip was a quiet and uneventful. Arthur had tried to convince his king to let him go to King's Landing and let Ser Oswell and Ser Richard take Lyanna to the hidden tower. Rhaegar would have none of it. They split and continued their journey to Dorne.

To hide his new wife in the lands of the one he set aside. Even Arthur felt the tinge of disrespect. His brother, who ruled in their sick father's stead, had been reluctant to help, even outraged. Arthur felt like a child again when his brother scolded him. Nonetheless he had helped, though he gave minimal effort. Though the most pain came from the look Ashara gave him when she saw the Stark girl. He knew she loved the second son of Lord Rickard Stark.

Arthur felt he had lost his sister. The pain hung heavy in his heart. They had been at the tower for nearly five moons. He couldn't help but feel a little resentment towards Rhaegar and Lyanna. Though more so Rhaegar, the man manipulated her to fulfill his whimsical prophecy. Arthur wondered what would happen if he chose not to support Rhaegar.

His mind lingered on the thought before he quickly banished such thoughts.

Lady Lyanna was showing with child. Arthur had somewhat softened his behavior towards her. Ashara had scolded him for his behavior but he scoffed as she was not the warmest to the girl either. She may have been in love with Eddard Stark but she was still close friends with Princess Elia, as was he but his loyalty was to Rhaegar first.

There still had been no word from outside world. His first thought was to worry but if anything had gone wrong then surely Rhaegar would have sent word. Ashara had gone and left in the dead of the night a few times. She had thought no one had seen her but Arthur said nothing of it to anyone. If anyone deserved to get away from the tower, it was her.

"Arthur, we have visitors." Ser Richard announced.

His eyes widened. No one was supposed to know of this place. He shot down the stairs to see who it was. Ser Richard was close behind him. Arthur exited the tower seeing someone he had not expected to.

"Arthur." His Lord Commander grumbled. The aged man set a stern gaze on Arthur.

"What are you doing here?" Ser Oswell, who had already been standing there, asked.

"Our king has ordered you to King's Landing." The atmosphere suddenly changed. A cool wind sent chills up the backs of the present knights.

"Aerys?" Arthur asked cautiously. Arthur had sworn Rhaegar as his king but Gerold had not.

"No." That single word caused the weight of the world to come crashing down.

Everything came to a stop. For a moment there was elation. All the weight was lifted off of his shoulders and all the taint from his soul gone. But only for a moment. Reality set back in and the weight grew heavier and the taint darker. The world seemed to be closing in on him. The beating of his heart sounded against his ears. He knew the answer to his question but still they came fumbling out of his mouth.

"Is Rhaegar dead?"

Gerold gave a stiff nod. Again silence reigned as king. Arthur looked to Oswell who was frozen in shock. All three men were broken from their reverie by a scream.

"No, you lie!" Ser Richard stormed from the entrance of the tower. Ser Gerold did nothing as the man grabbed the sides of his chest plate, "Rhaegar is not dead."

Ser Richard attempted to shake the larger knight but he was not likened to a bull for no reason. Finally the Lord Commander took ahold of the newest white knight with a firm grip. He met his eyes with a fierce gaze.

"He is dead, boy, and never coming back."

"How?" Arthur asked.

Gerold said nothing for the longest. He even averted his gaze from his sworn brothers. Oswell took it as an action of guilt and drew his sword.

"You traitor." Even as Dawn grew heavier each day Arthur was still fast enough to disarm Oswell.

Oswell looked at Arthur with hurt in his eyes, "Let us hear him out. We are all still brothers."

The Whent said nothing but retrieved his weapon and returned it to its sheath. Arthur nodded towards Gerold to speak.

"I failed, I failed not one but two kings. I admit I was not sure where my loyalty lied. Aye, Aerys was mad and getting madder by the day. But Rhaegar was no longer the Silver Prince we once knew. When word of the Stark girl's abduction and her brother being cut down, I knew."

"It was no abduction." Ser Richard argued.

Gerold turned an uncharacteristic cold look towards the man, "No."

Arthur knew it was question not be answered. He also knew what Gerold was going to say next. It was what he had been thinking all along.

"It was certainly not by choice, Ser. The girl was four and ten but still a child. You saw the way she acted at Harrenhall. No, Rhaegar took advantage of her childish ways. He risked everything for a fickle prophecy from a time unknown. He himself did not love her, only used her. Now he is dead because of it."

All eyes were on the _White Bull_ now. Never had Arthur seen Ser Gerold speak with such emotion, so freely. Nor had he ever spoken of the Targaryens in such a way. The man who had witnessed all of the atrocities of Aerys and his son had finally spoken, the truth was free. Arthur could see the relief in the eyes of his commander but also the guilt. Gerold was a disciplined man and it was this discipline that held his honor and loyalty to the Targaryens. He took the oaths he made seriously and he failed to uphold them. It didn't matter who he made them to, he made them. This would haunt him for the rest of his days.

"What happened?" He asked once more.

Gerold sighed, "We must leave at once. I will tell you on the ride back."

"No, we will not leave this tower. We were commanded by our king to remain here until his child was born." Ser Richard said moving back towards the tower.

"Gods be damned!" Gerold roared, "She is pregnant?"

He looked towards Arthur with tired eyes. Mixed with everything else seeing his friend in such a state left Arthur without the ability to speak. He only nodded.

"This is not good."

"Why not, it is Rhaegar's child." The words slowly came out of Arthur's mouth as a sense of dread hung heavy on his tongue.

"I will speak no more until we reach King's Landing."

"We will not go." The Lonmouth knight insisted once more.

"We will go, come Oswell. Ser Richard, stay with her and the child. Let no harm befall them." Arthur did not threaten him but it was clear what would happen if he failed in his mission.

Arthur said nothing as he went back into the tower. No one had moved or spoken until he came back. Without a second look the three kingsguard rode off. There was creeping feeling that doom was waiting for them back in the capital but Arthur knew Ser Gerold was not a man to lead his brothers to their death, at least not intentionally.

* * *

Rickard released a feral roar. In such a short time he had lost two children. Lyanna taken by the corrupt prince and Brandon killed by the same man. The dragons would know the wrath of the Starks, of the North. Rickard could not fathom how mad Aerys truly had been. To think he would ignore the follies of his grandfather. But his madness rang true when he added wildfire to the equation. One arid drop and the whole throne room was ablaze. In the chaos that followed Rickard easily escaped the men holding him down. As did the other Lord Paramounts.

By now the realm would know of the king and prince's deaths. At the moment Rickard sat in the solar of Hoster Tully with said man and Jon Arryn. Plans were being discussed, the situation was a fickle one.

"My lords, you cannot be serious. We all plotted for Aerys to be removed and now he is. Seceding from the throne is not the answer." Lord Tully said trying to speak sense into his old friends.

"Hoster you must see sense. The Targaryens have shown they are unfit to rule us any longer. Aerys tried to burn us alive while trying to hatch a dragon egg and Rhaegar killed my son and impregnated my daughter!"

Only the respect he held for Hoster kept him from releasing his anger. Recent times had not been well to the Lord of the North. First word of Lyanna going missing, then Brandon's death. He was forced to marry Eddard to Catelyn Tully. The boy hadn't spoken to him since the wedding. Then three letters arrived at Winterfell. One written in Lyanna's own hand stating she would never forgive her father if something happened to Rhaegar. That hurt him but it angered him to no end. She spoke nothing of her brother's death or of the backlash of her negligent actions.

The second letter help quell the uprising anger. It had not stated who had written it but it did let him know that his daughter and grandchild was safe and would continue to be. The third was his summons to King's Landing.

"He is right, Hoster." Jon sounded twenty years older than his sixty two years, "We planned for Rhaegar but he is no better. He almost killed Elbert. Now the boy Viserys sits on the throne."

"Tywin already has his claws in him. He didn't get Rhaegar but his daughter will still be a queen." Rickard added.

It hadn't even been a day before they arrived at Riverrun before a raven arrived telling of the betrothal between the new Targaryen king and Cersei Lannister. To further secure his family's place of power Tywin himself had married the pregnant queen dowager, Rhaella Targaryen. Tywin was once again hand and would serve as the boy king's regent until he came of age. The Lannister hold on the throne was strong.

"None of this gives us the right to rise up in rebellion."

Rickard bristled at the elder man's refusal to see the sense of breaking away from the Targaryen's. It was then that he saw the look of guilt in the man's eyes.

"What did he offer you?" The words came out hard, aggression trailing each word..

Jon Arryn looked up in surprise, "Rickard, you cannot mean—."

The question was left hanging. The Warden of the East turned to Hoster for the truth. Hoster finally lifted his head and met the gaze of both men.

"I am sorry, my friends. I must think of my family first, you know the words of my house. Lysa will marry Jaime Lannister and I will support his grace, King Viserys."

"Family, Honor, Duty." Rickard repeated the words of House Tully. Each word was grinded out.

"Those are the words of your house. Family comes first and by marriage we are that. What of Catelyn and the child in her belly? Do you not care for them?"

In quick succession anger replaced the guilt in his eyes. With quickness beyond his age he was out of his chair and in Rickard's face. Rickard did not move as Hoster stood looking down on him with fury in his eyes.

"Do not ever question my loyalty to my family. It is for them that I betray two of my oldest friends. I did not want to, Rickard. But you are not free of blame either."

Rickard was now standing meeting Hoster's eyes with his own icy gaze. Seeing things were going bad Jon Arryn stood between them.

"Will you let us leave?" His eyes were pleading, "One last act as a friend."

Defiance held strong in his eyes. The two rebel lords stiffened as a knock sounded at the door. Hoster called for whoever it was to come in. A fairly young man walked in. By the looks of it, he was a messenger, a Targaryen messenger.

He bowed, "My lords, I am here on the orders of the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister."

He handed a letter to Hoster. The Lord of Riverrun opened it and read it. His eyes skated across the letter. Widening as they went. He dismissed the messenger before turning to Rickard and Jon.

"The last acts of our friendship." His eyes had softened, "You two must go now."

"What is it, Hoster?" Jon asked.

"What does the letter say?" Rickard's tone had returned to being even.

"You two are accused of murdering the king and prince by wildfire. You have been branded as traitors. If you do not return to the royal court-."

Hoster's shoulder sagged, He looked up meeting the eyes of his friends, "If you do not return to the capital the iron throne will formally declare war on the north and the vale."

The two seemed to be speechless. None of the men said anything or move for some time. It was pure madness. Rickard knew it to be Tywin's doing. Aerys may have whispered ill tales into his son's ear but the boy did not have the gall to do this, or maybe he did. Targaryen madness knew no bounds.

Lord Arryn was the one to break the silence, "Those cannot be his wishes, he is only six."

"Jon, you forget how the boy acted at court. Aerys had long since decided to disinherit Rhaegar. He had been prepping the boy to be his heir for many moons."

"No, it is not the boy or even Tywin. It says this is the last will and testament of King Aerys. It seems he planned on confiscating your lands by force when you perished in his fires."

Rickard could hear the psychotic laughter of the dead king. The same tormented whispers he heard before the king set the room ablaze. Even in death the man was mad. If he thought Rickard would let the north fall he was wrong.

Rickard turned to Hoster, "Do you see now, Hoster?"

Hoster shook his head, "I am sorry, Rickard. The deal is done, that is why you two must go now. There will no doubt be riders arriving soon."

Anger seemed to flare up in Rickard once more but he quickly suppressed it. He reached his hand out for Hoster to grasp. The old lord did so. He and Jon Arryn repeated the same. They wordlessly walked out of the old fortress. They now stood at the gates of Riverrun. Jon had already mounted his horse, surrounded by his men-at-arms. Rickard and Hoster stood silently looking into the distance.

"Rickard—."

Rickard raised his hand, "You've no need to explain. But you must know there will be war. Friends will become foe and I will spare no mercy."

A hint of shock appeared on Hoster's face but it quickly dispersed. A deep sigh escaped his throat.

"I expect no less from the King in the North. I just ask one thing of you."

Rickard turned to Lord Tully, "Take care of Cat and the babe no matter what happens."

"Aye, she is a Stark now. No harm will come to her, I assure you."

Hoster nodded. Silence fell once again. Signaling something had come to an end. No more words were said. The lords of the north and vale rode off to their respective homes to prepare for the carnage to come.

It did not take the Lord of Winterfell long to return to his ancestral home. During his journey home he was informed that he was officially declared a traitor to the iron throne. War was here once again. A raven was sent to his maester to call the Banners. His lords had arrived before he had. Now it was time for them to talk, to plan. An open attack on the south would be suicide. He entered the council room to see his lords waiting.

"My lords, we have been wronged once again!" He was met with roars of agreement but he held his hand up silencing them.

"First the prince believed he could do as he pleased. He took my daughter and killed my son. Then his father the _Mad Mad King_ Aerys tried to burn me alive and now even in death he threatens me with war. The Targaryens have severed the last bit of fealty the Starks owe."

After the events of Harrenhall rumors began spreading like wildfire. One of which was Rickard plotting to kill the prince for the dishonor of his family. The king chose to put those rumors to use. Many thought there were plots of treason being built in the north. Most had chose to believe the rumors but there were some that knew the truth of it.

When Ethan Glover rode into Winterfell with the bodies of Brandon and his party Rickard nearly broke down. But when Ethan told him of Ser Elbert surviving Rickard felt hope. Maybe the man could shed some light on his son's death. He said that it was dark. The only thing he saw was the silver hair. A silver haired man and three white shadows appeared from out of the darkness like demons from deepest pits of the seven hells.

"This will not go unpunished. This new king freely throws slander toward the north, as his father did. He dares to declare me a traitor. He but a boy following in the mad wake his father left."

"Bullocks!" Lord Umber roared, "I will not bow to a mad, boy king."

"Aye, we will take no more. The dragons have shown they are unworthy to rule us. The king is mad and his sons follow in his footsteps. The north will stand on its own once more!"

There was a moment of silence before a cheer that shook the walls erupted. Rickard had thought long and hard. This was what he prepared for the years before. Cheers of the King in the North erupted. The time had come for the North to a kingdom of its own. He would become King Rickard II Stark, second of his name. The gods seemed to agree as a comforting northern breeze enveloped the room.

He remembered what his father always told him, " _Whispers in the wind, the voices of the gods."_

"We must secure the north before all. Battles will be fought. Blood will be spilled. But that is war. In the end the North will rise and then we will be free of the dragons."

"Aye!" Lord Edwyn Dustin agreed. The large lord had been livid when his son's betrothed had been stolen.

"Lord Frost, you will be expected to hold the western coast. Lord Ryswell will be sure to help." Rickard ordered. He thought not to pair the two men. Since giving the Frost command over Cold March, Lord Ryswell had complained of their growing power.

"Lords Dustin and Reed, the south is yours to hold. Eddard will take command of Moat Cailin." The two lords nodded.

"What of the east, my lord?" Lord Bolton asked.

"The east will be secured by the Arryns." Rickard told him, "The Kingdom of the Mountain and Vale is now an ally of the North. If they somehow break through the naval forces of Vale I have a contingency plan in place."

Rickard looked around at all of his lords. He could he the anger, the anxiousness. War was here and he would need them to be at their best.

"We must stay vigilant in times like this, my lords. You are dismissed."

The moment his last vassal shut the door Rickard broke down. He fell to one knee. It had become too much. Warm tears stained his face. A knock at the door quickly sobered him up.

"What is it?"

"Lord Benjen requests entry."

Benjen, his sometimes forgotten child. Benjen was distraught at the loss of his brother and Lyanna's kidnapping. He had never been as fierce as Brandon, or as Calm as Ned, neither rebellious like Lyanna. Benjen was whatever his father expected of him.

"Let him in."

Benjen entered in a hurry. Rickard saw the downtrodden look on his face. There were also tears being forced back in his eyes.

"What is it, son?"

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He put his down and finally spoke.

"I knew."

Rickard stood in confusion, "You knew what?"

"I knew." Benjen repeated.

With everything going on Rickard didn't feel like questioning his son again. Anger began to rise within him. He strode forward and held Benjen's shoulders in a firm grip. His grey eyes met his son's.

"You knew what?!"

"I knew Lyanna was planning to leave with Rhaegar." He finally told him.

"Why would she do such a thing?" Rickard asked. He had given the girl what she wanted. She was to have a northern husband who would let her have her boyish ways.

"Oh Lyarra." Rickard said falling down into his seat.

"I'm sorry father." Benjen said with tears in his eyes.

Rickard chose silence. He remained mute as he saw his son run out of the room. Everything was falling down all around Rickard but the North still stood strong. He wasn't sure if Aerys was bold enough to actually attack the north. If the king chose to fall so deeply into his madness then he would remind the realm why the cold of winter was feared more than the warmth of summer.

It had been half a year since Lyanna's abduction. Only a fortnight had passed since he was crowned. Neither side had made any movements, until now. He sighed as he remembered the saying, ' _dark wing, dark words'_.

 _Lord Stark,_

 _The time has come. The Lannisters have raised their forces. My men are ready and the invasion of the Westerlands will soon begin. By the time this letter has reached you the iron price will have already been paid._

The letter was short but it provided him with valuable information. If Tywin had mobilized his forces then the crownlands and riverlands were sure to be raised as well. Since Aerys had planned to wage war before his death he was sure plans in the south had already made. That means he was behind and things were happening sooner than usual.

Never in a thousand years would he have thought he would be allied with the ironborn. Quellon was different from his predecessors so it was fairly easy to secure the alliance. Benjen would marry the man's granddaughter when she came of age. Like a dutiful son, Benjen didn't protest the marriage.

"Martyn." Rickard called for the man on the other side of the door.

The man poked his head in the door, "Your grace?"

He still hadn't gotten used to the new title. Yet he had no choice. The men of the north had no problem with him as their king. There was no going back. He was king now and would be until his death.

"It is time." Martyn nodded, understanding the three simple words.

* * *

 **By the way, Rhaegar took Lyanna sooner than he did in the books. So the event of the kidnapping happens around eight months after Harrenhall and Brandon and co. dies a month after that. Then there's two months before Rickard gets the letters and is summoned. You'll learn the reason why he acted on his desires quicker than normal at some point in the story (or not), until then, Lknight out.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Blood loyalty**

* * *

Moat Cailin was a peaceful alternative to Winterfell, at least at the moment. Here he did not have to avoid his father. He did not have to awkwardly meet with his estranged wife. The woman was a dutiful wife for all five months before her father chose to betray his. Then she became cold, hateful even at times. He truly did not know how to feel. Any other man might be distraught. Not Eddard, he could not feel the loss of her potential love when his heart belonged to another.

Pulling himself away from hurtful thoughts he readied himself for what was coming. His stomach felt like it was collapsing on itself. His first real battle was near. There had been skirmishes with the mysterious shadow group that harassed their trade routes. Then there were the wildlings. But this would be nothing like that, this was war. Eddard steeled his nerves. His father had chosen him to lead the men at Moat Cailin. It could have been to make amends but Eddard knew better. A Stark leading the defense of the North was a morale booster. It helped that Ned was a natural commander.

He looked around at the gathered northmen. There was the merman of house Manderly. They were being led by the heir of White Harbor, Ser Wylis Manderly. The man's wife was set to give birth at any moment but yet here he was defending the north in the name of his king. Ser Wendel would have came but he had left with Lord Wyman on some quest beyond the sea.

He also saw men of Barrowton and their vassal houses. They were not led by Lord Dustin or his son but rather his uncle, Trevor Dustin. The grayed man was said to be a master of his axes. The handles were black as the darkest night of winter and the blades were of the finest bronze. Lord William had chosen to remain with the forces in Winterfell. It also kept him close to his pregnant wife, Jonnella Cerwyn. His father had given the Dustin heir permission to marry two moons after Lyanna disappeared. No one blamed the young man, especially with rumors of Lyanna willingly leaving with the late prince.

A yell filled the air making Eddard turn his head south. The golden lion and the silver trout led the way. Catelyn had cried and screamed when she found out they would be fighting against her family. He tried to console the woman but she didn't want it. She even told him she didn't love him and she never would. Surprisingly it didn't hurt much, not when he still loved Ashara.

"Prince Eddard," Ethan Glover, his brother's former squire got his attention, "They hail us to parley."

Eddard nodded. He would see what they had to say. Along with Ser Wylis, Ethan, Ser Mark Ryswell and Theo Wull he exited the safety of the southernmost tower, the hill tower. It wasn't long before he saw the leaders of the army before him. He didn't how to feel when he saw Lord Hoster Tully. The man was his wife's father and a supposed friend of his father and his foster father but instead he had chosen to betray their trust and side with the enemy. Next to him was his brother the _Blackfish._ The last man was clearly a Lannister but which one, he did not know.

"My lords." He greeted.

"Lord Eddard." Hoster replied while the other two remained silent.

"He is a prince and you will address him as such." Ser Wylis said with narrowed eyes.

"He is a rebel and nothing more." The Lannister man said evenly.

"Watch your pretty little mouth, Lannister. It might get you in trouble." Big Theo Wull grumbled.

"Ser Tygett that is enough." Hoster warned the younger man.

The Lannister knight glared at the northmen across from before turning to look at the Lord of Riverrun. His face forming into a seemingly forever present scowl.

"I don't take orders from you, Tully. My brother sent me here to represent the Westerlands. I am your equal, treat me as such."

Eddard watched as Hoster opened his mouth to no doubt put the blond man in his place. He would not have it. While the little confrontation gave him valuable information he was not here to watch them argue.

"Enough." He shouted loud enough to get their attention. He saw the Blackfish raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye but ignored the man.

"We are not here to babble like children. Speak your peace now or your words will be forever lost."

Hoster seemed to straighten up after being scolded by a man many years his junior. Ser Tygett only turned his scowl on Eddard now. Ser Brynden remained silent.

"For the respect of your house and your father," Eddard nearly snarled at the words, "I give you the choice to surrender—."

"No." Eddard did not even let the finals words escape his goodfather's mouth before turning back to Moat Cailin.

He would not listen to the words of a man like Hoster Tully. Especially those that held little weight. He would love to select a solution that spilled less blood but he knew that this choice was better for the long run. The Targaryens had wronged his people one too many times now. It would only continue if nothing was done about it. Not a single word was spoken as they rode back. His men did not question him. He had earned the respect of the North in the recent years. It would do him well in the war.

"When do you think they will attack?" Ethan Glover asked.

"Most likely at first light tomorrow. They wouldn't dare attack during the night."

Moat Cailin was already nigh impossible to pass during the day. But during the night, it was surely impossible. Their biggest worry wouldn't be the army of men but instead the nature of the north. Lizard lions, deadly insects, poisonous plants, the bog and much more. No, their only hope was to attack during the day.

"There are so many men." A young boy said looking out at the large force.

Eddard could see the fear in his eyes. He himself felt fear but not for the same reasons. The boy was afraid to die, Eddard was not. His fear stemmed from leaving his child without a father and his siblings without another brother. He certainly didn't want his father to lose another child.

The riverlands-westerlands army was quite the combination. Some sixty thousand men if his scouts were correct. But numbers meant nothing at Moat Cailin. Larger forces had tried only to be swatted back by the North.

"Aye, lad. that is a lot of men. But you forget where you stand. This is Moat Cailin." He stopped and noticed all eyes were on him now.

It was then that he saw that fear was present in many of the men present. It was understandable. No war had been fought since the War of the Ninepenny Kings some twenty odd years ago. They were all looking to him for courage, for guidance. He could not, would not fail them now.

He continued, "They will not succeed. Better men have tried to break through but no, they cannot. The blood of our enemies fertilizes the land, plasters the walls. We will continue tradition and destroy any and every opposition who wishes to challenge us!"

He was met with a roar of approval. Eddard fought the urge to smile. He wasn't a smiling man. But when met with such a strong reception the urge to do so was strong. He had long came to terms with who he was. He was Eddard Stark, the _Quiet Wolf,_ second son of King Rickard II Stark _._ He had not liked the nickname at first but his father told him the quiet wolf was the most dangerous. The forces of the iron throne would soon find out how true that was.

"That was good, my prince. They needed that. You gave them the courage they needed but nothing truly prepares you for what comes next." It was Trevor Dustin who placed a hand on his shoulder.

Eddard could only nod. He knew nothing of war but he would not let his people, nor his father down. He went to his room to rest. Tomorrow would be a long day and every day after that.

His assumption the day before was correct. As soon as the first ray of light touched down on Westeros there was a beating on his door. He shot up already knowing what was happening. Quickly he was dressed in his doublet. He had to call someone in to help him with his armor. He now stood among his men waiting for the right moment to begin their defense.

The sound of the oncoming army could be heard. It was the sound of war. He was never one that liked fighting, at least not needlessly. Yet he could feel his blood pumping, a certain excitement coursed through him. He knew it was the so called wolf's blood of the Starks.

He raised his hand high in the air. His heart began beating faster and faster as they neared. As soon as the first man stepped within range of the causeway his hand dropped.

"LOOSE!" The call was echoed across the wall. Thousands of arrows were released into the air.

In a matter of seconds the first drop blood of the war had been spilled. Eddard watched with hard eyes as he saw hundreds of men fall prey to the deadly projectiles. Time after time he gave the order. Finally the hail of arrows stopped as they got close. Thousands of men from the riverlands and westerlands alike had already perished but no northman had fallen, yet. If the arrows didn't hit them then they would fall prey to the dangers around them. Moat Cailin was truly a gift from the gods.

He could see the siege engines being brought to the front. They would not do his enemies any good. Scorpions and spitfires armed with projectiles made of the hardest iron of the north began firing. An odd sense of ambivalence filled Ned as he watched the siege engines and the men operating them be torn apart. They were his enemies but most of them had no ill intent towards the north. They were just answering their liege lord's call to arms.

Blood painted the causeway red. Bodies were strewn everywhere, including the swamp. For hours they continually pelted their enemies with almost every ranged weapon they had, all but one. Its purpose did not suit a siege of this kind. The sun had left Westeros in favor of the east, night had come. Ned had commanded and survived the day. He needed his rest but still he felt the need to speak to his men.

"Today was our day." He said as they gathered around him, "But victory will not be absolute. We will suffer losses but we will not lose."

He was met with a roar of cheers. His men were happy. They had a firsthand experience of throwing back a large fighting force at the legendary stronghold, Moat Cailin. It was nothing spectacular but necessary, nonetheless. Holding up his hand he allowed silence to fall.

"Tomorrow will be harder. They have a great mind in Ser Brynden. He will try to find ways to circumvent the advantages the Moat gives us. He will find none. Now rest but stay aware, southerners know no honor."

Cheers erupted once more. This time Eddard allowed them to keep cheering. He soon found himself in his bed falling asleep.

* * *

Ser Tygett had never before witnessed such a hopeless fight. Not even when he watched his brother end the Reyne and Tarbeck lines. He and Lord Tully agreed to attack Moat Cailin to test its strength. He thought it vulnerable since it was still in the process of being rebuilt. A fatal misconception. His forces launched attack after attack. Each time they were met with an impenetrable defense, both man and nature made. They had not even made it passed the first tower. His frustrations were coming to the surface as he watched Lord Tully bumble about how they would never take the stronghold. Ser Tygett held his tongue until he could no more.

"It matters not. The Hand of the King sent us here to attack Moat Cailin and push north. That is what we will do."

He saw the ever silent Blackfish cross his arms, "How do you propose to do that?"

Tygett smirked, "The men of the north have never been known for their wit." The Blackfish scoffed but Tygett continued on.

"They will think the day is over."

"Is it not?" Tygett glared at Lord Tully. He didn't like being interrupted, "We have lost thousands of men and they barely any."

"No, the day is not done. Eddard Stark is like his father, too much honor. Even his foster father is an Arryn, _As High As Honor_. Because of that he will be naïve and will not expect any actions to be made at night."

Tygett kept a neutral face as the two Tully men took in his words. The large tent remained silent. The third son of Tytos Lannister smiled inwardly. This was a good plan. If he could take Moat Cailin then the royal forces had an open route north. The war would be won and he would return a hero, his own man. He would not be Tywin Lannister's younger brother anymore. People would know him well.

"You can't very well march your troops forward again. They will surely hear you and then the slaughtering will commence once more." Lord Tully said breaking the silence.

"Correct, I will only take a small portion, a thousand men will do. We will circumvent the southern towers and find weak spots to attack."

Tygett felt the plan was solid but clearly the two men in front of him did not. He did his best to keep his composure. Looking at the two disapproving faces in front of him he could only see his elder brother's face.

"Whether you agree or not, I will do this. I leave soon. while I am gone Lord Brax will be in command of the Westerlands troops."

With that said Tygett rose from his seat and left the tent. A cold wind gathered around his body making him shiver. He hated the north. It was cold, everything was so far apart. So far apart one would think it free of people. Before reaching Moat Cailin they hadn't seen any signs of human life. He thought they would meet opposition marching through the neck. While they had lost men, that was more due to nature and not the crannogmen he expected.

"Ser Tygett." Tygett turned to see his squire, Larys Swyft.

"What—." His words were lost in his throat as something behind Lord Tully's tent caught his eye. There was something in the trees.

"My lord—?" Larys called out.

Ser Tygett raised his hand to silence the boy. Silently he crept towards where he saw something. Fallen sticks and leaves crunched under his feet. The Lannister couldn't help but shiver as another cold wind passed over him. In one smooth, quick motion he unsheathed his sword and sliced down in the suspected area.

"My lord." Larys came running, "What are you doing?"

Tygett returned his sword to its home on his hip, "Hmph, nothing. It was nothing."

As it turned out to be nothing Tygett turned and left to go ready his men. In his confidence he failed to notice the pair of eerie green orbs floating in the distance. The ghostly circles disappeared as if they were never there.

All throughout the camp morale was low. From the men of the riverlands to his men. After just one day they were ready to leave and return home. Tygett could not have that. Low morale was an army breaker. In front of him stood the thousand men that would journey deeper in the swampy lands of Moat Cailin. Tygett had no doubt that they would be able to sneak passed all the towers and find ways for their army to march without much opposition.

"Tonight we march for relief. We cannot again take losses like those today. Moat Cailin has a weakness and we will find it. Then we will strike. The sooner we break northwards, the sooner we get back to our families."

Cheers erupted but Tygett quickly silenced them. Once he was ready the stealthy march began. It wouldn't be easy, Tygett knew. They had already lost twenty men in front. There was no telling how many in the middle or the back. He saw three men swallowed by the ground under them. Two men had been bitten by something that ended as a black stain on his hand. There was even a man taken by what assumed to be a fabled lizard lion. To make things worse he felt as if he was being watched. Despite all the challenge he ordered them forward.

"This will all be worth it." Tygett said to no one in particular, " _It has to be."_

The sound of hooves sloshing in the mud next to him caught his attention. His squire had returned with reports from the rest of the column.

"Ser, I'm afraid the losses in the rest of the column are worse than we believed."

Tygett frowned, "How many?"

"Twenty men from the center and fifty from the back, ninety all together."

Tygett nearly screamed in frustration. If he knew they would lose nearly a tenth of their men after only three hours of marching he would have thought differently. But he could not turn back now, Tywin wouldn't. Ahead of him he could see a large forested area where they could set up camp for the night.

"We will move towards that dry land to set up camp. Relay the message but do so in quiet manner."

The squire nodded and rode off. Tygett's eyes drifted towards the forest. Scanning both sides he found nothing. He heard no buzzing, no animals, nothing at all.

" _It's too quiet._ " A sense of dread began rising in him. It only strengthened when he spotted two glowing orbs in the distance. They began moving upwards until he could see the head they were attached to and then the full body of a person. He knew it. He had a feeling of being watched since he left the camp. The figure was shrouded in darkness. The thin form was blurred almost looking phantasmal.

"Ambush!" He screamed but it was too late. The trap had already been sprung. What little light the moon provided vanished as a shroud of arrows launched from both sides of the forest. In an attempt escape the deadly cloud of projectiles Tygett spurred his horse but to no avail. The horse's legs was stuck in the muddy grounds of the narrow path. There was pain and then there was darkness.

First he felt an aching pain in his chest. Trying to move his hands he found that they were bound. He could feel his eyes flickering open but everything was a blur. Darkness still covered most of his vision. Then he saw them again, the same haunting green eyes. His eyesight began going back to normal. He finally took a good look at the phantom that had been hunting him.

His head was covered by a dark hood that only left his eyes visible. A cloth of the same color covered his mouth and nose. Tattered cloth the color of the forest sat atop boiled leather armor. His attire made it seem like he was a part of the trees around him. A tri-pronged spear rested in the ground next to him. Looking around he saw none of his men. There were weirwood trees, whose white bodies he could have sworn were tinted red but none of his men. The only other sign of life that he could see was the man in front of him.

"Who are you and where are my men?" Tygett asked calmly. There was fear in his heart but he would not show it. He was a Lannister after all.

The man blankly stared at him. Tygett fought the urge to shiver at the unnatural green eyes. It was as if the man was looking into his soul. Silence remained dominant. Tygett asked the man the same two questions repeatedly. The mysterious captor kept his silence. He tried to remain calm but Tygett was an angry man.

"Do you fucking hear me? I said tell me where my men are!"

"Dead."

His voice held no emotion. Tygett could not, would not believe him. By the looks of the sky, it was just morning. There was no way his men could be dead, not all one thousand of them. Someone had to have escaped.

"Not one man survived." The man said as if he were in the Lannister's head.

Tygett snapped his head towards the man, "Why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't," The man said turning around, "But they are."

A breeze blew through the forested area. Tygett had read about the wind and the Old Gods. It was said the wind was their voice on the mortal plane. Whispers of their words could be heard in the air.

"You lie!" He struggled against his restraints.

The man once again turned his ghostly gaze on him. In an instant Tygett felt the fight drain from him. Fear fully gripped his heart. This man was not normal.

"My king, a man of the elder blood, asked me to defend our home from those who serve the unworthy. He had not to ask. My blood is tied to his for eternity. We will forever strike down his blood's enemies. The only reason you still live is because your blood is valuable."

The man stalked closer, winds picking up around him. His gloved hands gripped Tygett's head from the sides. He forced him to gaze into his seemingly glowing emerald orbs.

"The tainted will rue the day they crossed one of the elder blood."

Once again his vision went black. The blindness only last for a short moment before images began shuffling through Tygett's head. His heart began beating faster. His blood ran colder and his body became weak. The man released Tygett and a blood curdling scream forced itself from his throat.

Not in control of his body all he could do was fall. Tygett writhed in pain as laid on the forest floor. The stranger only watched as Tygett gave in to the pain and dropped into the land of unconsciousness again.

For the second time in short succession he awoke to his captor. Unlike the last time he was not alone. Around him were the men that he assumed ambushed him.

"He's awake my lord." He heard a voice say.

"Thank you, Galvan." Tygett froze, he could never forget that voice.

The man from before stepped into view. There were also two men flanking him. One was short, while the other was average in all categories. Only now could he see the sigil on their chests. The lizard lion of House Reed.

"We shall wait for Prince Eddard."

And wait they did. Tygett said nothing as they waited. His eyes snapped towards his left. The pounding of hooves could be heard. Eddard Stark and five men rode into view. He recognized most of the sigils but one did not belong. The black stag of House Baratheon. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was Robert Baratheon. The six men dropped down from their mounts.

"Ser Tygett Lannister." The northern prince greeted. His gray met Tygett's green.

"Stark." He replied, though he didn't address him properly there was no disdain in his tone.

"This all could have been avoided," He gave a dismissive wave, "Take him to the marsh tower."

Tygett was hauled up on a horse and taken away. He could only helplessly watch the northern scenery as he was taken to his prison. He knew he would his days in a cell until either the war ended or his value meant nothing. A prisoner of war. A far cry from fame, he would not be a better man than his brother.

* * *

 **I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. I feel this is much more compact than A Song Unsung. I'm sorry the siege or rather the assault was so short. It was my first scene of that sort. In the future it'll much more detailed and longer. Another factor was the fact that I'm not exactly sure how Moat Cailin looks or how it works. If someone could explain that to me that'll be great. Anyway Bobby the Beast is back, Orin speaks in riddles and Eddard is a hard ass (in a cool way). Next chapter will be the beginning of climax to the rebellion. A lot of time will pass, like 7 or so months. Until next time, Lknight out.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Before I start I just want to thank everybody who reads this story. The support I'm getting is crazy. I haven't been writing much due to work but I have two days off so I'm back at it. Another factor is I decided to write some chapters before skipping to the agot start. I wanted to flesh out some characters and give you some development. Oh and I decided not to skip ahead seven months. This chapter starts about a month or so after the last one. Well I know why you guys are here so, on to the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: A King for a King**

* * *

His life hadn't really been his own for years. It belonged to the king and his family. Arthur joined the kingsguard to protect them from danger. Instead he became embroiled in a web of deceit and madness. Now he knew, the Targaryen's he served held no regard for no one but themselves. He would not continue to serve such selfish people. Ashara told him as much. She told him he needed to break away from them when given the chance.

The dornish white knight had been given an opportunity. With his talent for speech, the Lord Hand convinced the young king that being with his mother on Dragonstone when she gave birth would ease her pain. Arthur knew Lord Tywin wanted the boy gone so he could plan the war unhindered. Tywin was slowly becoming the true power in Westeros. At the moment he couldn't worry about the Lannisters. Arthur had been tasked with guarding the king, along with Ser Barristan and Prince Lewyn.

Arthur calmed himself as he approached his sworn brother's room. His old friend would be vital in his plans. A single knock on the door was answered by permission to come in. Lewyn sent a smile his way as he saw Arthur enter but it quickly turned into a frown.

"Is it that time already?"

Arthur nodded, "It is, but first I have something to speak to you about."

Lewyn saw the serious look on Arthur's face. He shut and locked the door before leading Arthur towards the back of the room.

"If this is about Doran and his plans, I—."

Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion. He knew nothing of what the Prince of Dorne had in mind. In fact Doran had been surprisingly silent since Elia and the children were forcibly sent back to Dorne. He had thought Doran would do nothing. But then again he was a Prince of Dorne. He hated when people called natives of Dorne, vipers, but it was true. If Doran had a plan, no one would know until he wanted it to be known.

"What does Doran have planned?" He couldn't help but ask.

Lewyn cursed silently. A look of dilemma covered his face. Arthur knew what he was thinking. It hurt to think that the people he grew up with questioned his loyalty. Yet he could understand. Over the years he had all but forgotten about everybody that wasn't Rhaegar or Aerys, besides Ashara of course, his only light in the darkness.

"Doran plans to follow example of the north and vale." Although they were alone his tone was only loud enough for Arthur to hear.

Arthur didn't know how to feel about this new information. Dorne had essentially been independent for years but now Doran truly planned to pull away from the Targaryens. The Targaryens had wronged too many, it seemed. Maybe Lewyn would willingly join him in his plans now that his loyalty wasn't to the throne.

"Lewyn, would you lay down your life for me, as I would you?"

The older knight looked appalled, "Of course I would. We are brothers in all but blood. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Arthur's mind wandered back to all the things he had done over the years. All of the things that changed him. The screams of the queen and all the other women Aerys raped. The men Aerys believed to be traitors, all headless now, some burnt corpses. Then Rhaegar and the Stark girl. All of those times he had done nothing. He did as he was told. Each time he lost a piece of who he was. This time he would not sit idle nor would he spill unnecessary blood.

"I'm going to end this war and I need your help."

"How are you going to do that? Even the Sword of the Morning can't take two kingdoms on alone."

"I don't intend to fight anyone." He said, but he knew Ser Barristan would be a problem.

"Out with it Arthur." Lewyn said growing impatient.

"I intend to take the King Viserys to the King in the North." Arthur watched his friend with weary eyes. He hoped for a favorable reaction.

A pregnant pause entered between them. Arthur's dark eyes met Lewyn's own. A million words were spoken without a single word being said.

"Why the Stark king and not the Arryn one?"

"Another time Lewyn, are you with me?"

Lewyn nodded. Placing a firm hand on his friend's shoulder he met his eyes with a solid gaze.

"Until the end, brother." Lewyn said smiling.

Arthur refused to smile. He didn't deserve happiness. The two men exited the room. Night had fallen and it was time for the king to depart. The three kingsguard stood staunchly beside Tywin Lannister as they waited for the young king to arrive.

"Ser Arthur, "Arthur turned to the Hand, "I do not have to tell you how important it is that our king arrives on Dragonstone."

Inside Arthur was nervous. It was like Tywin suspected something. But there was no way he could know anything. There were only two people that knew of what he was going to do. He shook the thoughts giving the man a stiff nod. Tywin said nothing. He kept the knight's gaze before turning away. They didn't have to wait long for the king to arrive. Surrounding him were the rest of Arthur's white brothers. Oswell had more of a sour look than usual. Ser Jonothor held a scowl at not being chosen to escort the prince to his pregnant mother. Gerold looked indifferent as always. Ser Richard was still absent, protecting the Stark girl at Rhaegar's tower. His mind started to drift towards Rhaegar's secret queen and their child. Unfortunately or rather fortunately his thoughts were interrupted by Lord Tywin's voice.

"Your grace, it is time." Tywin told the young king.

King Viserys had confidence exuding off of him, almost too much. He nodded to his Hand and turned to the three kingsguard that would be accompanying him. His violet eyes scanned the three men.

"You are the man that killed the last false dragon." He said more than questioned looking at Ser Barristan.

The knight gave a stiff nod. The young king smirked. His smirk instantly fell off his face as his eyes landed on Lewyn. Anger, almost disgust appeared in his eyes.

"A snake in white armor. My father should have sent you back to your barren home with the other Martells." To his credit Lewyn showed no outward emotion. But Arthur knew inside he was fuming.

"And you are Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of the Morning. My brother held you in high regard but my father said you were too deadly to be trusted. I hope he was wrong."

The king said no more as he walked off. As his duty entailed, he silently followed. They exited the keep from a small passage at the back of the castle. No one saw them board a small vessel in the dark of the night. Soon the waves of Blackwater Bay were guiding them to Dragonstone.

The king had retired to his chambers. Arthur noted that the cabin was quite large, taking up more than half of the top deck. Ser Barristan stood guard at his door. Arthur and Lewyn stood on the bow of the ship. They stood looking out at the sea as the light of the moon bounced off the waves.

"I've changed." Arthur said breaking the silence.

Lewyn turned a surprised eye towards Arthur. His mouth formed into a frown. Silence remained as he looked back out into the sea.

"We've changed, all of us."

Arthur turned to Lewyn, "Shadows of our former selves."

The Sword of the Morning craned his neck towards the lone cabin on the boat. He met Ser Barristan's weary gaze. Arthur had caught the man throwing suspicious looks his way the entire trip. Tywin could not have known of his plans. But he could have whispered something else in Barristan's ear.

"Ser Barristan is becoming suspicious. We have to do it now." Arthur whispered.

Lewyn gave a slight nod. The two turned and moved towards the king's cabin. The bold knight gripped his sword as he saw his sworn brother's come towards him. Anger swelled in his eyes but Arthur could see the hurt behind the anger.

"So Lord Lannister was right," Barristan shook his head, "I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

Barristan gave a single stomp of his plated foot. The door to the king's cabin opened and men began pouring out. Lannister crimson was all he saw. The two dornish knights now stared at a sea of crimson. Ser Barristan gave them a look of pity.

"Give up now, Sers. I give you this one chance only in respect for the bond we once shared."

"We are kingsguard, we do not surrender." Arthur said taking Dawn from his back.

Without warning the Lannister men swarmed Arthur. With instincts honed in his decades as a warrior he cut the closest man from shoulder to hip. Dawn hummed a beautiful song as it cut through the air. Men came left and right but none were a match for Arthur. His movements became a dance as he swiftly ended the opposition. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Lewyn crossing blades with Ser Barristan. Most of the men were dead. The only living ones stood between him and his beginning of redemption.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur brought Dawn in front of him. Slowly he began to raise the blade into the air. Rays of moonlight danced along its edges causing the blade to look alive with light. The night seemed to get brighter as Dawn rose higher. In a flash Arthur was in front of the Lannister soldiers. The first man fell to a swift swipe across the chest. Planting his foot, Arthur twisted shoving Dawn through the next man's chest. Seeing the chance to kill two birds or rather two men, with one stone he gave a stronger thrust. Dawn went further through the dead man and penetrated the man behind him. Hearing footsteps he used all of his strength to pull his sword loose. With his backwards momentum he spun. In his right hand Dawn soared through the air, separating another man's head from his shoulders. Blood trailed down his armor as it left the mouth of the fifth man. Arthur looked over his shoulder seeing the dead man inches away from his face. He pulled his dagger free as the dead man began to fall.

His eyes snapped towards the fight between Prince Lewyn and Barristan. Panic shot across his face. Barristan had Lewyn at his mercy. Before Barristan knew it Dawn had slashed across his chest. Now focused on Arthur, Barristan eyed the dornish knight. The two circled each other. Arthur snuck a quick, worried glance at Lewyn. The older knight only nodded, silently saying he was okay.

"There've always been whispers of who would win a duel between us."

"Let us see."

Legend met steel, Dayne against Selmy. The two men fought for dominance. Their blades grinded against one another in a competition of strength. Arthur not one to rely on strength agilely slipped under Barristan's guard. A second later Barristan had another cut on his chest. But the stormlands native would not be outdone. Arthur hissed as Barristan's sword slid across the bottom of his arm. Stepping back to put some space between. The space was short lived as Barristan shot forward clashing with Arthur once more. For what seemed like forever the two went back and forth. It was clear who had the upper hand. For every hit Ser Barristan landed, Arthur landed three. Though Arthur landed more substantial hits. While Arthur sported a few small cuts, Barristan was riddled large ones. Feeling himself tiring Arthur thought to end the duel. He blocked every attack Barristan sent his way. He saw it, he saw the opening he needed. Arthur feigned left, but Barristan didn't fall for it. That was what he wanted. He fully put all of his weight on his left side. Barristan was caught leaning right when Dawn cut into his side. Ser Barristan crumpled to the ground. Already unconscious from the pain before he hit the wood. As he was no longer a threat Arthur walked away from Barristan.

"Are you okay my friend?" Arthur asked squatting down next to the Prince of Dorne.

"Y-yes, go get the boy. I'll be fine." Arthur gave Lewyn a reluctant look, "Do you want to fail in your mission! Go!"

Lewyn rarely raised his voice, but he was right. Arthur slowly stood up. Walking into the cabin he found the Targaryen king glaring as if he knew Arthur would be coming.

"My father was right." Arthur ignored the words.

He made sure there were no other exits in the room. Arthur would not tie the boy up but he would be forced to stay in the cabin. Not a single glance was given as Arthur exited the room. A roar of frustration could be heard from inside the cabin.

"Arthur—." A dry voice reached his ears. His head snapped towards where he left Lewyn. The wood beneath his friend was stained with blood.

Arthur was at his friend's side in moments. His brown skin had lost its sunny glow. His body launched forward in a coughing fit.

Arthur's eye dropped at the blood in Lewyn's hand. A familiar sense of dread grew in his chest. He knew what was happening. Lewyn knew as well, but he sent a smile at his friend.

"It is okay, Arthur. Death comes for us all. It is my time now."

Arthur said nothing. He could not. Another life gone because of him. The first step to redemption was already a bloody one.

"Promise me one thing—." Another coughing fit took over. This time globs of blood were expelled from his body. His breathing quickened. Arthur could see every breath pained him. He was fighting for every moment he had left. Lewyn grabbed Arthur and pulled him closer. His last breaths were used to whisper his final wishes into Arthur's ears.

Arthur was frozen as his friend left this world for the next. A rare feeling crept from the darkest pits of his mind. Rage, his vision went red. He saw the boat captain cowering amongst a group of barrels. Marching over to the man he hoisted him up by his shirt.

"What is your name?"

"Davos Seaworth, Ser."

"Captain Seaworth turn this ship north, now."

"Where to in the North, Ser?" The captain asked with fear clear in his eyes.

"White Harbor." The captain gave a stiff nod. Arthur spotted a rope on the ground near him. Picking it up he went to restrain the unconscious Barristan. He would have to boil some water and clean his wounds too.

With Barristan now clean and tied up Arthur had to do something about all of the bodies. Before he could do that he could feel his armor weighing down on him. Be it exhaustion from the fighting, losing Lewyn or the weight of betraying his kingsguard oath, the armor was getting heavier by the moment. Taking the white armor off piece by piece he dropped it into the sea. With it all his memories of his time with the Targaryens, including his loyalty to them. It would be forever forgotten to him. Now he stood sat behind the ship captain. His eyes had grown heavy but he did not trust the man to stay his course.

Soon the sun was peaking over the horizon. Nothing much had happened, only an angry fit from Viserys and Barristan awakening. The knight said no words. His eyes never left Arthur's figure. Lewyn's body had been covered up. He would send his body back to Sunspear the first chance he got.

For days he went through the same thing. Viserys would attempt to escape when Arthur went to feed him. After being detained he would scream until he could no more. Eventually the boy's voice was lost in the roaring waves of the sea. Arthur would not let himself feel guilty for his actions. If Rickard Stark was the same man before his crown then no harm would befall Viserys. Treaties would be made and signed and Viserys would be safely returned to King's Landing and his throne.

Barristan upheld his vow of silence. The man was like a statue. He said nothing and did nothing. He even refused the food and water Arthur offered him. The results of his refusals were beginning to show. After two weeks at sea his face had become thinner. Pronounced dark bags hung under his fluttering eyes. Many times he had flashed in and out of consciousness. A few times he stayed unconscious for longer periods of time. Arthur took this time to force feed the man. It was a brutish tactic but it was only these sparse moments that kept the man alive. Barristan still may have been blindly loyal to the Targaryens but he was also once Arthur's sworn brother. He would not let him die needlessly.

The ship's captain still looked at Arthur in pure fear. He trembled as he told Arthur it would nearly a moon's time rather than the usual fortnight to arrive at White Harbor from King's Landing. Arthur understood, it made sense as Arthur told him to avoid being sighted by the coastal vale lords. It wasn't long after that, that he saw the southeastern lands of the north. He would see whether or not he made the right choice coming north or not as his saw a ship coming towards them. The Manderly ship pulled next to the small royal vessel. Arthur stood as the men hailed him.

"What business do you have in the north?" A large bearded man asked. The merman of House Manderly sat stood proudly on his chest.

"I have business with King Rickard." Arthur replied.

"What business?"

Arthur silently contemplated on what to do. He could remain vague but he was sure that would aggravate the northmen. Looking towards the Manderly he assumed was in charge he waved him over.

"Come and you shall see."

At the first the man hesitated. A rope was thrown down for the men to board. The Manderly and two of his men now stood in front of Arthur.

"What do you have to show us, stranger?"

"Only you may come." The man nodded, "Come."

Arthur led him to the cabin. Opening the door he allowed the man to step in. A deafening silence took over when he spotted the room's occupants.

"May I introduce King Viserys III Targaryen, third of his name and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard."

With his mouth agape he turned to Arthur, "Who are you?"

"Ser Arthur Dayne."

Arthur sighed as the man went for his sword. Grabbing his arm he stopped him from drawing his sword. He looked into his eyes as he spoke his next words.

"If I meant you any harm you would be dead by now."

Seeing the truth in his words, the Manderly removed his hand from the pommel of his weapon.

"We have to go now."

"May I know your name first?" Arthur asked.

"Ser Marlon Manderly."

Arthur nodded. Ser Marlon left one of his men on the royal vessel as it followed the Manderly ship. They arrived at the outer harbor of the city. With cloths over their faces Viserys and Barristan were led to New Castle. They entered the Merman's Court. It was a lot more extravagant than he expected for a northern castle. Statues of the Manderly merman, elegant paintings on the wall and other things. But that wasn't why he was here. He refocused as he came upon the lord of White Harbor. The rotund man sat on his high chair. Ser Marlon was standing next to his kinsman. Arthur assumed the lord had already been informed of the recent events.

"Do you know what you've done, Ser Arthur?"

The lord's voice resonated throughout the hall. It echoed in his head over and over. For the first time and years Arthur felt no shame in his actions.

"I've brought peace to the realm."

For the first time in years Arthur felt at peace. The war might not officially been over but soon it would be. He ignored the darkness at the edge of his mind. Arthur only saw the good that he brought in present time. The knight forgot that shadows are cast by light.

"Not just yet, Ser Arthur. I'm afraid you've missed the king. He marched the northern army south not two days ago. But fear not I will send a raven to the Moat and from there a rider will be sent."

* * *

The time was now. The war seemed to be going their way. Eddard continued to throw back the southern forces at Moat Cailin. Jon held his kingdom from the Bloody Gate. Winning numerous battles in the mountain passes of the Vale. King Quellon had taken his ironborn reavers and destroyed the Lannister fleet at dock and was now raiding their lands. Word had come that the fleet of the Arbor had set sail. But Quellon assured him that they would be taken care of. He couldn't afford not to trust the man. It was time for the North to go on the offensive. It would be a show of force. Most importantly he would get his daughter back. He needed to be focused.

After numerous successful defenses at Moat Cailin Rickard felt it was time to venture south. Many lords disagreed. Stating that they only needed to hold the north until King Viserys gave up. Rickard assured them that the dragons needed to be taught a lesson. The north would forever be under siege if they did not break the strength of the south. He knew they were up against impossible odds. The reach could field close to a hundred thousand men, fifty from the westerlands and some thirty odd each from the riverlands and stormlands. Yet he was not worried. He had thought all of this through before declaring himself king. The Old Gods would see that justice would be served.

Presently speaking, everything was going according to plan, roughly. The southern forces sent roughly a third of their strength to the Moat. King Jon sent reports of a host numbering near the same as the force at Moat Cailin.

His thoughts shifted to his heir as the cool northern air whipped around him. He would be seeing Eddard for the first time since he left for Moat Cailin. Hopefully his son had gotten over his anger for him. A close bond had developed between the two of them. The boy transformed into a more than worthy man right before his eyes. Maybe the news that his child would soon be born would make him happy.

"What a sight it is. I never thought to see Moat Cailin in all its glory." Martyn Cassel said from his atop his horse next to Rickard. Admiration radiated from his eyes as he saw the walled fortress ahead of them.

Rickard smiled. Moat Cailin truly was an amazing sight, even unfinished. His father always spoke of the power that not only Moat Cailin held but the lands it stood on. There was only one other living man that knew of the power in the earth below Moat Cailin. The south would see what power the North held when he arrived.

"Aye, it is. It's a vital part of the North. As long as a Stark reigns in Winterfell it'll never fall to ruins again."

A cold wind blew that caused every man traveling with the king to shiver. To Rickard it felt like home. With the blood of the North running through his veins the cold was his ally.

Men bowed as Rickard entered the old stronghold. He looked as regal and stern as any Stark king before him. His gaze looked by all the men there. Before he attended to his lords and soldiers he would speak with his son. Standing at the entrance of the largest of the few rebuilt towers, the Lords Tower, which would be connected to the small keep that Rickard planned to build, was Eddard, his four companions and Robert Baratheon. Rickard saw no emotion on his son's face. He reminded him so much of his father Edwyle at that moment. Eddard bowed his head while his companions went to their knees.

"Father."

"Your grace."

"Rise, we have much to discuss. Come with me." Rickard turned to Martyn, "Gather the lords, Eddard and I will be there shortly."

Martyn nodded and left to fulfill his duties. Rickard ushered Ned to the top of the tower. They stood overlooking the royal forces camped just beyond the forest. Neither man was the best at expressing their feelings so they stood in silence. Eventually they figured time was being wasted.

"Father, I know—."

"Eddard, I know—."

Both men stopped in embarrassment. Not trusting his words Eddard nodded to his father giving him the floor.

"I know I haven't been the best father."

Once again Eddard cut his father off, "No, it is I who has not been the best son. My anger was childish. It was my duty to marry Catelyn. You were only doing what you had to do to secure our family's future."

Rickard could see the hurt, the pain in his son's eyes. He still loved the Dayne girl. Alas it could not be. Even with Hoster turning traitor he could not in good faith annul his son's marriage. Catelyn herself would have to do as her father did for him to take such action. He did not see that happening. Despite her feelings the woman did her duties. As he thought of her duties his mind drifted to his grandchild.

"You should know Catelyn is soon due to give birth." A ghost of a smile appeared on his son's face, "You may leave if you wish."

"But father, the men—."

"Will understand your absence, I am here now."

Eddard's jaw set, "No, I will stay. I will see my child when the north is free of threat."

"Then you shall stay." Rickard knew there was no convincing his son otherwise, besides the war wouldn't last much longer.

"We should be getting back, best not to keep the lords waiting."

The King and his heir returned to the war room. There they met with the lords that were already there and the lords that accompanied Rickard. Rickard sat down at the head of the table.

"My lords it is time we show the true power of the North."

"I mean no disrespect your grace but leaving the north is certain death. If we want to go further south we have to bypass an army larger than our own. How do you propose we do that without alerting them?" Lord Bolton said inquired.

All eyes were now on the king. Rickard eyed the Bolton carefully. Roose Bolton was a man he was always weary of, even when Roose was just a child. His father told him to always keep an eye on the Boltons. Rickard knew of the deeper history of the feud between their houses. That was what made him worry.

"There are those that wish to see the north free just as we do." Rickard answered vaguely.

Roose nodded, "What of when we arrive in the south?"

"We will meet with our allies. If all goes well King Jon and his army will be marching down the highroad. If not we will smash the force assaulting the Vale against the mountains."

"Good, I'm bloody restless from all this waiting. This is war!" Greatjon roared. Lord Umber was met with a cheer of agreement.

"You all will get your fill, I assure you. We are taking the fight to the iron throne."

"Your grace."

Every man in the room jumped at the sound of the voice. All eyes turned to the door where old Lord Orin Reed stood in his dark garb. His green eyes pulsed under his hood. Rickard sighed as he saw the man. He knew this time would come but he didn't want to accept it. But he had a duty to do, something that Orin reminded him of.

"My lords, we shall reconvene this council tomorrow." His lords looked at him with a questioning look, "I want the men gathered and ready to march as soon as possible."

Despite the mystery lingering in their minds the northern lords and Robert Baratheon nodded. The room was clear with the exception of King Rickard, Prince Eddard and Orin Reed.

"Everything has been prepared, your grace." Orin told his king.

Rickard gave a hesitant nod, "Then we shall be off."

"Where are we going father?" Eddard asked.

"To free the north." A grim look set on the king's face.

Rickard could see Eddard was still confused but he followed his father and Lord Reed, nonetheless. As they exited his father commanded his guards to remain and rest, the same with Eddard's companions. The three men mounted their horses. It wasn't long before they arrived at the tallest tower within the fortress, the Elder Tower. The tower stood taller than the Lord's Tower but it was not as wide. It was positioned near the unfinished southern wall looking over it.

Rickard felt the power in the air as they neared the door of the tower. He knew Eddard felt it too. He saw his hand unconsciously move towards his sword's handle.

"You need not worry here, young prince." Lord Reed told Eddard.

"Why is that?"

"It is sacred, the gods have marked it." The old man pointed upwards and there sat multiple runes engraved into the stone.

Eddard closed his eyes and opened them. He did it a few more times to see if what he read was right. He was thankful his father taught him more of his heritage. Looking to his father for confirmation, Rickard nodded. Dumbfounded Eddard silently followed the two men to a large heart tree. A somber face was carved into the pale bark. The moon hung high in the sky but little to no moonlight shined on Westeros. Darkness seemed to claim every piece of land, besides one. The Elder Tower was bathed in moonlight. Like the gods themselves were reaching down from the heavens claiming the tower as their own.

Rickard locked eyes with his son. He could see the fear in his son's eyes. He did not blame him. Eddard had in mere moments learned a lot. It would take time for the information to settle in his mind but he did not have the luxury to wait for him.

"Eddard, whatever happens make sure we are not disturbed." His tone was colder than he'd like but it was necessary.

Eddard remained silent, "Do you understand?"

Snapped from his reverie the prince of the north nodded, "Yes father."

Rickard and Orin approached the massive tree. They turned and faced each other. Rickard took a small bronze dagger from his waist and cut his hand. Lord Reed did the same. The two men placed their bloody hand near the mouth of the heart tree while putting their free hand on each other's shoulder. Orin began a chant that sounded more like a song. Rickard gradually joined in. He could instantly feel the power of the Old Gods surge through him but he could also feel his own life force being sucked into the tree. Minute after minute he felt himself weaken but the power exuding from the heart tree grew. At first it was just a tickle under his feet. Gradually it grew to a rumble. The ground was soon shaking violently. His legs threaten to collapse beneath him. He dared not let his hand slip from the tree lest he wanted to meet the gods personally. Lord Reed's words hauntingly echoed in his head.

" _You're lending your life force to perform this act. Pulling away too soon will leave you with little life left to live. Pulling away too late will be seen surrendering your life to the gods. Remember, concentration is key, we must not be disturbed."_

The time to end the ritual was nearing. He could hear the screams of his enemies travel through the earth. The North was defending her home. His mind fell into a serene state but only for a moment. A searing pain shot through his hand before spreading to the rest of his body. Opening his eyes he found an arrow pinning his hand to the tree. Scanning the area he found a group no larger than ten men with the lion of Lannister on their chest. There armor was ragged. Bloody spots adorned their tattered doublets.

"Father!" He heard his son scream.

Rickard could feel his soul slipping into the tree. Everything was a blur. Eddard desperately tried to pull the arrow from his hand. Lord Reed moved with grace that seemed impossible for his age. The ten men were soon no more. He sunk to the ground as his legs failed him.

"Eddard," Rickard groaned weakly. Eddard ignored his father and continued trying to pull the arrow loose. Using what little strength he had left he snatched his son by his collar and pulled him close.

"Eddard!" His son's eyes snapped to him, "Listen to me. I am not long for this world."

Rickard could feel it. There was no use trying to fight what the gods willed. He had not planned to die so soon but it was not his choice, not this time.

"No, don't talk like that." Tears began falling from the prince's eyes.

Rickard gave a rare smile, "Accept it son, I asked the gods for help, they gave it. If my life is the price that must be paid for the safety of my family, then so be it. I started this war to secure our future and to get your sister back. The gods will see to our victory but you, you have to get your sister back. Promise me, you'll get her back."

"I will get her back, father, I promise."

Rickard gave one last smile. A sigh escape his body as the last of his life left him. Whether it was one of relief or his last whisper to join the winds, it would never be known.

* * *

 **Boom and there it is. There's a lot of mystery in this chapter (for a reason). But worry not everything will be explained eventually. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until next time, Lknight out.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: What is dead may never die, But rises again harder and stronger**

 **This chapter was a last second change. I was originally going to skip to the AGOT start. But I decided against it. I'll wait to do that. At the moment I don't know how many chapters i'll write before that era begins, maybe two or three. This chapter happens immediately after chapter six. Anyway I'd like to give a shout out to TheGreatStag. He's been great, having another creative mind to speak with has helped me with writing this story, despite the wait for chapter 7.**

* * *

Everything happened so fast. One moment he could feel the earth move below him. The next his father lay dead in his arms. He did not know what to feel. The rumbling of the ground grew louder, deafening his ears to the other sounds around him. The earth continued to shake as Eddard held his father in his arms. The shaking seemed as if it would go on forever

"My king," He could hear words but they didn't register.

The words kept repeating themselves. He only showed any indication of hearing them once a hand was placed on his shoulders. Turning around he found familiar green eyes.

"My king, I am at your service. What do you ask of me?" Lord Reed was bowing before him and not just him.

Behind Lord Reed were his usual companions sitting on their horses. The rumbling must have drowned out the sounds of their approach. He could see the horrified looks on their faces. Looking down at his father he felt numb.

"Ned, are you alright?" Robert asked crouching at his side.

Ned turned, surveying the area around him. The Lannister men were dead, thanks to Lord Orin. He couldn't see it but he could feel his eyes harden.

"Ready your men, we are marching south."

Robert flinched. He looked like he wanted to protest but he nodded instead. Ser Wylis thought different. He walked towards Ned hoping to change his mind.

"Your grace, I don't think it wise to march south so soon after-." His words hung in the air as he looked at his deceased king.

"This is not a discussion Ser Wylis. My father wanted to march south, that will not change because he is dead." Eddard stopped himself before his voice could falter.

His father was still pinned to the tree. He wouldn't leave his father like this. He reached towards the tree to pulled the arrow from his father's hand. Being gentle would not get the arrow free. With all of his strength he pulled the arrow from the tree. His father's hand now free fell lifelessly to the ground. Silently Eddard lifted his father onto his back.

No man dared to offer help as he carried his father to his horse. Silence remained dominant as they watched him secure his father's body.

"Your grace, I would think it wise not to allow the men to see the Late king in such a state." Ser Wylis suggested as they neared the castle.

Before Eddard could speak Robert voiced his opinion.

"Nonsense, aye the men will be saddened by his death. But once they learn how he perished they will want blood."

"You are correct Robert." Eddard could hear how dead his voice sounded. If he could feel anything at the moment, it would be fear. Not of his enemies but for his enemies. There was a creeping fury within him.

"But Ser Wylis makes a better point. We will not tell the men of my father's death."

He saw Robert and Wylis open their mouths to say something but he sent a cold glare that made both of them swallow their words.

"Ser Wylis you will gather the northern forces and bring them here. Robert I need to speak to you before you leave. The rest of you are dismissed."

While Ser Wylis obediently mounted his horse, he notice the other three men standing still. Ethan was the first to notice his gaze on them.

"I apologize, your grace but I cannot willingly leave another Stark alone again." Even submerged in his own grief Eddard could see the pain, the guilt in Ethan's eyes.

"Good, I'm in need of good men to be apart of my personal guard." Eddard did not know why his father had not created one. He could only help but wonder if he did.

Eddard had read of past kings having guards of their own. They were honor guards without name. He didn't feel like coming up with a name nor did he have the time. He would figure that out later.

"We are with you, your grace." Ser Mark Ryswell added, while Theo Wull grunted in agreement.

"My king, Winterfell is a ways away. It would be wise to allow your father to rest in the Elder Tower until we can properly return him to Winterfell." Lord Reed spoke.

"Aye, that makes sense." Eddard once again placed his father's cold body on his shoulder.

Without a word he made for the Elder Tower. The five men followed wordlessly. Without any knowledge of the tower Eddard found a room for his father to temporarily rest in. In the center of the room stood a table made of weirwood. On the topside he could see runes. Runes too old for him to understand. He looked to Lord Reed for an answer.

"That's too old, even for me. King Rickard never told me he had such an object in his possession."

"What is it?" Eddard asked placing his father on the table.

"I don't know, but the power coming from it tells me it's ancient."

Eddard took one last look at his father before turning to two men he trusted most, "Come, we have things to discuss."

Eddard, Robert and Lord Reed had gathered in the solar of the Elder Tower. Ethan, Ser Mark and Theo stood guard outside the door.

"What's going through your head, Ned?" Robert asked leaning over the map on the table.

Ned's finger fell on a long narrow path. It traveled along the edge of the bite all the way down into the Greywater.

"Lord Orin, could you safely lead a large group of mounted men through this path?"

"I could, your grace. We would have to move slow but it can be done."

Eddard looked to Robert, "You will take your mounted forces and go with Lord Orin."

"And what will you be doing?" Robert asked with his arms folded.

"I'll be taking the rest of the north's army and march on what is left of the Westerlands-Riverlands army. They will be in disarray after what happened earlier."

"Speaking of," Robert's eyes grew wide, "What the bloody hell was that? It felt like the whole of the north was shaking."

Eddard unconsciously looked towards the crannog lord, something Robert did not miss. The old man gave an approving nod.

"Magic, my father and Lord Orin performed an unbelievable feat of magic." Eddard could see the doubt in his friend's eyes.

"Do you think me mad, Ned? Magic is only a thing of stories."

Lord Orin snorted, "A thing of stories, come and let me show you how real it is, boy."

Ned saw Robert look his way. He only shook his head and followed after Lord Reed.

The two men followed the old lord to the top of the tower. Orin pointed out to the destruction he and Rickard caused. The earth was literally broken. The land was fractured. As far as one could see there was no solid piece of land. If you looked close enough you could see hands, feet, arms and even the heads of some of the men that were unfortunate enough to be swallowed by the north.

"Do you see that?" He asked.

"Yeah, what about it?" Robert asked clearly oblivious of the origins of the chaos.

"When was the last time you heard of the earth naturally crack?"

Ned could see Robert thinking hard. He never was one to listen during their lessons. Even if he did it wouldn't help him in this moment. The earth had never shook on its own, only at the behest of the ancient greenseers.

"That's right boy, it's never happened. Magic did that and it's not over yet." This surprised even Eddard. Lord Reed only looked towards the broken field once more.

As if his ghost like gaze commanded the earth, it began shifting again. Luckily for the opposing forces they had pulled their men from the shifting zone. Ned could see the awe in Robert's eyes as he watched the earth seemingly move to it's own accord.

"T'is the power of the old gods. I was blessed at birth but my talents were never put to use until Lord Rickard sought me out. He was wise but it was too late. My body can't handle what it use to."

Eddard narrowed his eyes. He had not known Lord Orin for too long but the man never spoke much. When he did it was in riddles. There was strength and knowledge behind every word he spoke.

"What are you saying Lord Reed?"

Orin's usually alive eyes seemed to dim as he looked up. His thin lips pursed in a straight line. Eddard could feel bad news coming.

"There is something I must tell you." He looked to Robert, "Alone."

Robert nodded in understanding. Ned opened his mouth to argue but Robert himself told him it was not his place to know what was about to be said. Ned knew he was right. Lord Orin would have otherwise just said it aloud. But that was what he feared. It had to be something worth keeping a secret, more weight added to his shoulders.

"I have the sight, you know. I've witnessed things you should know."

Eddard eyed him wearily. He swallowed hard as his throat suddenly dried up. Feeling he couldn't trust his own words he remained silent. A tired looked appeared on Lord Reed's' face.

"Before I tell you anything of my visions, you must know that blood begets blood but it also brings life. What is dead may not be dead."

* * *

 **I know, I know. This chapter is extremely short but it serves a purpose. Despite its length it actually holds a lot of information about the future, you just have to look. I'm sorry for the long wait for this small chapter but work is crazy. 12 hours six days a week is killer, not to mention enrolling back into school. But I hope you guys like it, unfortunately the next update is unknown for now as I've made some changes to the storyline. This chapter was originally supposed to be the end of this arc and on to the agot era. Sorry again, until next time guys.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Life begins anew**

 **This chapter will be the climax of the short war, endearingly dubbed War of the Dead Dragon. At this point the war has been going on for about half a year. I know the timeline may not seem that clear but I assure you i'm not just throwing numbers out there. If you care about the timing so much PM me and I'll do my best to explain it. With nothing more to say I don't want to keep you waiting, here's chapter eight.**

* * *

He could feel the wind around him. The pain had gone, now he felt as free as he ever had. Below him was the whole of the north. In all his years he had only seen a fraction of his homeland. There were things he had never seen or even heard of. There was a tainted light in the far north, He saw a ice like appendage streaming from the eastern edge of the land just beyond the wall. His awe struck thoughts were interrupted. The light of the gods took over his vision. In an instant life was once again his.

"He did what!" Jon Arryn was a man who rarely raised his voice but the information he had just received was an oddity as well.

"Ned marched his forces into the Riverlands and laid waste to the conjoined army. He now sits at Lord Hoster's door." Elbert Arryn stood strong, as if he had not nearly lost his life months ago.

His nephew still worried him. Even after his recuperation Elbert refused to do anything but train. He had yet to marry and had not even shown interest in doing so. Each of his days were either spent on the walls defending, training or discussing war.

The Arryn line was in danger. There was Denys but Jon would prefer for his brother's son to inherit after him.

"How?" Was the only word the old king managed. The west-river army numbered nearly sixty thousand. How had Ned managed to get passed them and in turn destroy them.

"I think you should hear it from the man King Eddard sent." Elbert smoothly informed his uncle of his friend's death.

"King Eddard?" Jon paused, "Send the man in."

Elbert quickly called the man in. A young man in dirtied clothes walked in. He looked as if he had been up for days.

"Your grace." He said bowing.

"What news do you bring?" Jon questioned, eager to find out what had been happening.

"King Eddard-."

"What happened to Rickard?" Jon asked impulsively.

The messenger lowered his head, "The late King Rickard lost his life in an ambush by the Lannisters. This holds all the answers you desire and more."

The king of the Vale took the parchment from the man. He took a deep breath before unfolding the letter. Mixed emotions erupted within him as he read on. Putting on a kingly face he turned to the other men in the room.

"Get this man fed and roomed, Elbert get the lords together, we have plans to make." Each man left to do as they were told. Now alone Jon collapsed his chair letting the weight of everything push him down.

Taking deep breaths the elderly king released some of the tension weighing on him. Standing up he straightened himself out. It wouldn't do well for his vassals to see him in disarray. The war had been tough on the people of the Vale. Blood now lined the paths between the mountains. The most bloody of the battles fought was one aptly named, ' _The Battle at the Gate'._ Unbeknownst to any of the Vale a spy was among them. Lowborn men dazzled by offers of gold from Tywin Lannister. Abusing their jobs as night watchmen atop the Bloody Gate, the group of insurgents killed their fellow watchmen and cleared a path for the stealthy force marching up the mountain. Many men died that night but many more were saved by the heroics of his kinsmen Denys Arryn.

"Uncle." Elbert stood in the doorway, "Are you well?"

"Everything is fine, Elbert. Though I do have concerns.

"We are at war, uncle, there is no time for courting." Elbert replied, knowing what came next.

"War makes the problem that much earnest. There are two men left in this world descended from the main line. Do you not care for the survival of your family?"

Elbert sighed, "Uncle please, I promise when all of this is over I will marry."

With the news that he just received that made Jon feel a lot better. But there was so many things that could go wrong, even in a small amount of time.

"We will continue this discussion later. Now we have lords to meet."

Elbert nodded as his uncle and king walked by him. The two Arryn men arrived to find the men whom he relied on. Lords Belmore and Corbray sat on his left. On his right was Lady Waynwood and Lord Hunter.

"Your grace." Came the chorused greeting.

"My lords." Jon said as he sat down, "Today I received grave yet good news. Our ally and my dear friend, King Rickard met his end."

Instantly, murmuring took hold of the room. Rickard was a man respected around the seven kingdoms. His ambitions had cemented his family's place in the hierarchy of westeros for years to come. The friend in Jon wanted to allow his lords to continue talking amongst themselves but the King had to take control of the situation. Raising his hand Jon silenced the room.

"There is more. In the wake of his father's death, Prince Eddard rose to the occasion. Leading the men of the north south, Ned managed to meet the forces of the riverlands and westerlands and come out on top. He now lays siege to Riverrun."

Jon finished and waited for one of his lords to speak up. As he assumed it was Lady Waynwood who spoke up first, being distantly related to the late northern king.

"How did he go?"

"An ambush, my lady. A small group of Lannister men ambushed he, Prince Eddard and Lord Reed."

The lady of Ironoaks nodded. Jon could feel the happiness rise within him as he prepared for the next part of the news. But he couldn't help but focus on the small amount of dread crashing against his conscious.

"That is not all, my lords. Not days after his march south a messenger caught up with King Eddard and his host. King Viserys is now in custody of Lord Wyman Manderly."

The room became surprisingly silent. King Jon could see the dumbfounded looks of the lords and lady in front of him. Elbert was the first to speak.

"Truly, uncle?"

Jon nodded, though he was sure there would be questions. He had some himself. If Eddard had gotten the news of the king's capture, why did he continue into the riverlands? Why hadn't negotiations been made?

"If this is true, why are there armies still sitting outside our homes? If we are just now getting this news, these events must have been at least a moon's past." Lord Belmore questioned, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room.

"I know not, King Eddard moves at his own thoughts. In any event we cannot fault him. It is he who controls the outcome of the war. But I assure you, answers will come in time."

A knock at the door quieted the room. With a single look Jon signaled for one of the guards to open the door. After checking who it was the guard announced the identity of the visitor. It was one of the scouts Elbert sent out.

"My lord I have wonderful news. The armies of Lords Baratheon and Tyrell have began to move down the mountains."

Jon's eyes narrowed. Something was going on and he didn't have the slightest clue as to what is was. He would have to see it for himself.

* * *

Four figures sat on horses just outside the gates of King's Landing. Night covered their forms even better than the cloaks they wore. The moon had moved high into the sky and the stars had fled behind the clouds leaving darkness to rule the night.

"Your grace, are you this is the time to reveal yourself?" One of the men asked.

"Yes Jon, now is the best time. Tywin is gone and with him most of his supporters. The iron throne is mine and Westeros with it."

"You have Dorne's full support...as long as Aegon remains heir." The man spoke menacingly in his last words.

"Are you threatening your king?" The last man spoke, grabbing for his sword.

"He is not king yet." The man shot back.

"You will not live long enough to see him rise."

The two moved towards each other but were grabbed by the other two.

"Myles, Oberyn, stop this! You are men, not children!" The lead man hissed.

"Do not speaky so lowly to me, Targaryen. The only reason I am here is because my nephew deserves his birthright."

"Yet I still thank you and the entirety of Dorne. Without you and Lord Stannis, none of this would be possible. I assure you, my end of the bargain will be upheld."

* * *

He had hoped his messenger had made it passed the camping armies in the mountains. If so then everything would be okay, no more blood would have to be spilled.

"Your grace, the banner of Lord Tywin Lannister has been spotted coming towards us."

Eddard's eye narrowed. There had been no news of Tywin leaving the capital. The Lion of Casterly Rock was a bold man to respond to his demands in person. But it made sense when he held the opposing king in his camp.

"Let's not keep the great lord Tywin waiting." Eddard said walking out of his tent with the Winter Guardians, the Winterguard for short surrounding him.

The newly dubbed guard detail had only three members at the moment. They were three men that Ned trusted with his life.

Ned's mind wandered through recent events as he walked through the camp. King Quellon and his ironborn had destroyed the naval forces of the iron throne and reaved all through the west. Chaos ruled the south, yet the fate of the boy king was more important. The small group stopped as they came to the edge of the camp.

"They are there, your grace." The scout said pointing across the field.

In the distance Ned could see the banner of House Lannister and the flag of parley. A large part of him didn't trust the Hand of the King but he wanted this war over and Lyanna back. With Ser Mark, Theo and Ethan behind him he mounted his horse and went to negotiate the end of the war.

"King Eddard." Lord Tywin greeted.

"Lord Tywin, it is a surprise to see the Hand of the King so far away from the capital during a time of war."

"In the absence of the king I must do what needs to be done. Speaking of the king, what do you want?"

"I want this war to be over. The North will remain independent, I cannot speak for the Vale or the Iron Islands. I also need the return of my sister and whatever child she may have borne."

Tywin remained silent. His eyes trying to find any sign of weakness on the northern king. It was likely Tywin had known what Eddard would want and how he would respond before leaving King's Landing.

In Eddard's mind it could go either way. Tywin was a ruthless man, but wise as well. He could very well leave the young king to die but that would leave the throne to the child in the former queen's womb. In doing so it would take the chance of his daughter being queen away. If Tywin was one thing above all, it was prideful. If he could keep his family on the throne he would.

"I assume there is no room for negotiation on your part?" Tywin asked dryly.

"No, when my demands are met and only then will King Viserys and any other highborn nobles be returned safely."

Once again Tywin remained silent. With a snap of his fingers one of his knights left the parley. Hands went to swords at the sudden movement. Eddard raised his hand, stalling the potential conflict.

Tension was thick in the air as they waited for him to come back.

The King in the North narrowed his eyes as a wagon appeared in the distance. The knot in his stomach tightened as it neared. He did not know what it was but something didn't feel right. Despite the tightness inside of him his face portrayed that of a king. The wagon stopped just behind Lord Tywin.

"Rhaegar was many things, a fool was one of them." The amused tone that slid beneath Tywin's words nearly made Ned falter. There was something about the look in his eye that didn't bode well for him.

With another snap of his fingers two lannister men and a third hooded figure stepped off of the wagon. As they rounded from the back Eddard saw the two men carrying a wooden crate.

" _No, no, no, no!"_ Eddard screamed in his head. HIs mind went to the darkest place he knew.

"My condolences, King Eddard." If the Stark king wasn't so caught up in his grief he would have heard the hint of seriousness in the man's voice.

He stepped down from his horse. Slowly and silently he walked towards the crate, which had now been sat down. He ignored the hooded figure standing by it as he knelt next to it. Not a soul moved as he sat there.

"How?" The pain in his voice was evident.

To Ned's surprise it wasn't Tywin who responded but the hooded figure. It was now that he heard the sobbing. The sobbing of a female.

"It...it was...it was Ser Richard. He just lost his mind and attacked Lyanna." Eddard recognized the voice before the sobs took over.

"Ashara?"

Ashara removed the hood revealing her tear stained face. Before he knew it Eddard wrapped his arms around the woman.

"I'm so sorry Ned. I couldn't stop him. The baby-."

"The baby?" Ned asked pulling away.

"He took him and ran." She cried.

Ned only hugged her tighter as she cried into his shoulder. This was not how he imagined reuniting with his sister, with her in a wooden box. It suddenly hit him that it was only him and Benjen left. House Stark had quickly dwindled down to almost nothing.

"I thank you for returning her to me but I cannot return your king just yet." Eddard's voice was strong, he had shown enough weakness already.

"A dead body holds no power. As for the return of King VIserys, I am no fool Eddard Stark, I know you must wait for your allies. I assume their word will come by raven. Your ironborn friend still pillages my lands and Jon Arryn is trapped in his mountain fortress."

"Not for much longer, Lord Tywin. If I have my way, all of this will be over in days." The Eldest living son of House Stark turned away from the enemy delegation. Stopping at his horse he helped Ashara atop it before mounting it himself.

Most of the short ride was spent in silence. It took a little longer to get back as Theo and Ser Mark had to carry Lyanna between them. When they arrived back in camp all eyes were on them. Rain started to pour down as if the heavens wept for Lyanna and House Stark. The men of the north knelt in respect as the small group passed through. Eddard paused as they got to his tent.

"You three go and enjoy yourselves with the other men. I need to speak with Ashara."

Ethan looked to protest but a push from Theo knocked him out of the tent. With his guards gone Eddard turned to look down at his sister's box. Saying nothing he knelt down as his body finally gave out. Ashara was quick to kneel next to him and wrap him in her arms while letting her own tears fall.

"Why...did she not care what her actions would cause?" There was a hollowness in his voice that scared him but the pain was too great to care.

"She did not want any of this. She was just a young girl who felt trapped." Ashara defended the girl she had come to know as a friend.

"She knew better. Now she, father and Bran are dead. It is just Benjen and I now."

Ashara had nothing to say, she just put her head on Ned's shoulder. The grieving king did not fail to notice the intimate action. In his heart he felt no need to move but his honor caused him to think the situation inappropriate. In the end his heart won out. He had blindly obeyed his honor for too long. But his honor was preserved when a guard called from outside his tent.

"Your grace?"

"What is it?" He said standing up.

"A messenger has arrived with letters."

Walking to the entrance of his tent he retrieved the letters from his soldier. With a grim look on his face he walked back to Ashara. Whatever news he would get would be a few days old, at least. A sense of relief came to him as he saw the the seals of house Greyjoy and House Arryn.

"Tywin was a fool to come here." His plans had come to fruition, the war had been won.

"Your grace, this just arrived...from the capital." The man's voice shook as he handed the letter to his king.

Eddard froze as he spotted the sigil on the paper. The three headed dragon House Targaryen sat proudly at the center of the parchment.

"Looks like we have a lion to capture."

* * *

 **Boom! Here it is guys, the long awaited chapter. I apologize for the wait but life has been rough lately and my ability to write and want to write suffered. Things are better now, so I'll get back to writing regularly. Anyway the 'War of the Dead Dragon' is over. Next chapter will timeskip to the GOT era. I know some of you may not like this but if you know me, then you know I like to leave things mysterious. Next chapter brings a lot of changes, which will bring lots of questions (I hope). Just tune in guys, until next time, LKnight out!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Home Again**

 **This chapter will introduce a lot of the changes and new characters (OCs), including one of the two main characters. He is an OC and a Stark. The other main character will be Robb, his older brother. Don't worry though you'll get other POV's besides those two. I'll also start a new format, stating the location and year at the beginning of POV's.**

 **Jeopardizer: Ned married Catelyn for honor and an alliance. Unfortunately Hoster chose to side with the throne.**

 **Onyxhaider98: You'll see what happened to Catelyn and Hoster eventually. Ned took the long way around to get to the Riverlands.**

* * *

 **Owain**

* * *

 _Winterfell, 299 AC_

He smiled as the morning sun shined down on his home. It had been four years since he felt the cool northern air. Four years since his father sent him with Robert Baratheon. Owain had been through a lot during his time away. But now he was home. All he wanted to do was see his family. His thoughts were broken as a large hand slammed into his back.

"How does it feel to be home?" Robert Baratheon asked in his usual booming voice.

Looking at Winterfell he couldn't help but frown. He made sure to straighten his face before glancing at the man who had raised him for three years. His time as a mercenary had kept him in near perfect fighting form. Owain had never seen a better warrior than Robert Baratheon, though one man came close. He had followed the man into many battles and saw him end the lives of many men. There were numerous things he shared with Robert that he didn't with his father. Robert taught to fight with many weapons. He kissed his first girl and drunk his first pitcher of ale. Doing those things he formed a tight bond with the man. Just like his father, he saw Robert as family. He was his uncle in all but blood.

"It feels…good. I can't wait to see everyone." A grin settled on his face as he thought of his family.

He missed his family, he missed his mother for sure but that went unsaid. He deeply missed Robb and his twin, Alysanne. The three had been inseparable as children up until Robb and he had been fostered away. Robb went to Runestone and Owain to Greywater Watch. He'd been away from them too long but it was necessary. He even made friends that would last a lifetime.

There were Robert's eldest children, Arlan and Brielle. Arlan was nearly an exact copy of his father, with the exception of his light brown skin and eyes. His skin he inherited from his mother, his eyes were an oddity. He like Owain had dual colored irises. The features of each side of their families battling for supremacy. While he had the warrior instincts of his father but other than that he was a bit of a recluse. Brielle had the looks of her mother but the hair and eyes of her father. Her blue eyes were a shade darker than her father and brother. She was just as fierce as the males in her family.

Then there was Conno and Li. He had met them on one of his misadventures. Since that moment they followed him wherever he went. Li said something in his native tongue that made Owain chuckle.

"Yes Li, this is Winterfell, one of the last fabled redoubts." Owain answered as they trotted through Winter town.

Speaking of the once small town, Owain was surprised to see the roads bustling. Small walls had been built around the town seemingly connecting it to Winterfell and protecting it all at once. Bigger houses of fine stone were built behind those of wood. He knew his father had ordered improvements but to progress at such a pace was surprising. Wintertown, now ironically name as was basically a city. Winterfell had truly become the center of the North now. Quite a bit of winter coins would be needed for such a thing.

"O, O!" Owain knew that voice. Looking ahead he saw the person he missed the most.

Jumping down from his horse he ran towards Winterfell. He grunted as small arms wrapped around him. Dark hair covered his face as he hugged the small figure.

"Aly, I've missed you." Pulling away he smiled at his identical twin.

The same glittering pale blue, gold eyes stared back at him. It was easy to see the resemblance of the two. She even had the same crooked smirk that Owain wore.

"I see you found a way to get out of wearing dresses." Owain smiled as he saw the mailed skirt with breeches underneath it.

"Mother made a good case to father. Now come, everyone is waiting for you."

"And here I thought we were family." Robert said in a teasing voice.

Alysanne smiled widely as she noticed the rest of the arriving party. She launched herself towards the Baratheon man. Robert gave a hearty laugh picking the girl off of the ground. After she was set back down she moved to Arlan and Brielle. Owain couldn't help but smile at the small family reunion. While everyone was occupied with each other he saw a small group of heavy horsemen coming towards them. The direwolf of House Stark emblazoned proudly on their chest. Though this one was white, the personalized sigil of the deadliest fighting force in the north.

"It seems we've taken too long. Father sent the Wolves out after us."

All eyes turned to the approaching northern knights. The leading figure was a familiar one. Martyn Cassel road with his head high.

"Prince Owain, it is good to see you. Your father, his grace, sent me to escort you and Lord Robert to Winterfell but the princess seems to have beat me to it."

"Martyn, you old dog. I told Ned we didn't need an escort." Robert boomed.

Martyn smiled, clasping hands with massive man. With all the greetings finished, the group made their way to Winterfell.

Almost nothing had changed since he'd last been home. The Winter Wolves trained in the courtyard of the restored First Keep. Servants walked about, tending to their duties. Guards stood at their stations watching and protecting. Among of all the everyday actions he saw the welcome party.

His family stood at the gates of the Great Keep. His father stood tall, he looked more imposing than he had when Owain left. The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter sat on his head and furs wrapped around his body. Most notably was the pommel of Ice sticking out over his shoulder and the new scar on his left cheek. It seemed his father had seen battle recently.

His older brother, Robb, stood to his father's left with a smirk on his face and his hand on his blade-A habit he picked up from his teacher no doubt.

A large smile came to his face when his eyes fell on his mother. She was the light of his life, the brightest star in the north, his father would tell him. She smiled back seeing her son's gaze. Next to her stood his younger siblings. Voria, who was his mother's twin. Lastly was Rickard, an oddity with the white hair and gray eyes.

Jumping down from his horse he made his way to his father first. He wanted to go to his mother but it would be seen as disrespect.

"Father, I've missed you." He said standing near as tall as his father.

Eddard smiled clutching his son in a solid hug, "It has been too long, son."

Continuing with tradition he went to his brother, the heir to the Kingdom of the North. His brother flashed a grin before snatching him into a fierce hug. He let him go looking him up and down. Over the three years Owain had grown taller and wider than his older brother.

"I see you've been training."

"Aye, brother, how else can I keep up with the likes of you. Not everybody can be trained by the fabled Ser Arthur Dayne." There was bitterness in his voice but it was not targeted towards his brother but towards his uncle. He threw a quick glance at one of the shadows standing behind his family.

Owain hated men who followed without question. Now, he didn't support treason but a man or woman who followed orders without a thought of their own was nothing in his eyes. The Gods gave man free-will for a reason.

"And not everyone can be trained by the legendary Demon of the Disputed Lands." Robb returned with a smirk.

Owain enveloped his brother in a quick hug before going to the person he missed most. His mother's smile made all the weight on his shoulders disappear. Hugging her as if he'd never let go, Owain buried his head in her shoulder like he was a child once more.

He heard his mother giggle, "My, my, you are not so small anymore, my little winter star."

Owain blushed at the nickname his mother picked for him. She had called him that since birth. He was born with the black hair of his mother and a mixture of the looks of his parents. His eyes however, were an anomaly. Near the pupil they were a pale blue, near white, that lightened out to gold towards the edge of his irises. His mother told him that the moment he was born winter and summer clashed. The sun retreated as the moon and stars rose to prominence. Hence his nickname, a star born into winter.

"Mother, it good to see you again."

Before he could do anything else Voria and Rickard mobbed him.

"O!"

"Owain!"

Owain smiled, he missed them. The Baratheons were family too but he missed being in Winterfell. He couldn't wait to tell them about his time in Essos, though some things he would keep to himself. He subconsciously frowned as dark memories flashed to the surface of his mind.

Dragons filled the skies, three eyed krakens roamed the seas, golden lions running rampant and bloody roses grew everywhere. That was what he had been seeing lately. Some things were still blurry but it did not seem like a good dream.

"O, O, what's the matter?" He heard his twin's voice.

He snapped out of his gaze and put on a smile. Alysanne frowned at the smile, knowing it was fake. Owain knew he wouldn't be able to keep much, if anything, from his twin. Like most twins they shared a special bond, almost as if they shared a soul. There were times he could hear her voice and that was when he was in Essos or at Greywater Watch. He could feel her pain, her sadness but also her happiness. The best nights were when she would sing into the night. He was sure she was looking into the starry sky just as he was. Then there were times when they were children when one of them would get hurt and the other would feel it. She probably already knew of the dreams he had. She always read his mind better than he did hers.

"We'll talk about it later, Aly." She glared at him, "I swear."

The glare disappeared, replaced by a grin, "Good, now come, everyone already went inside."

"Just a moment." Owain looked back towards the sky and held his hand out.

Alysanne looked at her brother with clear impatience in her eyes though it soon turned to shock. From the sky came one of the largest owls she had ever laid eyes on. It's black and gray body blotted out the sun. The massive bird landed on her brothers metal greaves.

"This is, Svnoyi. He was a gift from Conno."

Alysanne rolled her eyes and continued inside. Owain whispered something in the massive owl's ear making him fly away before following his sister inside the Great Keep of Winterfell. There were swarms of people. He could see men bearing the sigils from lords across the northern kingdom. It explained the bustling streets of Winter town. But why were they there? His answer came in the voice of his father.

"I know you've just gotten back but you're a prince of the North. That means you need to know what's going on, come."

Owain nodded to his sister before following his father, Robb and Robert. Arlan and his companions gave him a questioning look. He signalled them to follow. They didn't have far to go as they made it to the great hall. The Winterguard stood vigilantly outside the door. Sitting around the massive table in the center of the room were five major lords of the north and the Chief Commander. Some Owain remembered from memories, others were vaguely familiar but he knew their sigils. Sitting from left to right he named them in his head.

" _Lord Willam Dustin, Lord Edric Frost, Uncle Benjen, Ser Wylis Manderly, Greatjon Umber and the Chief Commander of the Winterguard, Trevyr Dustin."_ These were his father's greatest supporters. Though the representatives of the Mountain Clans and House Glover were absent.

"My lords, my son Owain has returned home. Returned by my brother in all but blood." A cheer rose up for Owain and Robert.

"It's good to be back, my lords." He said smiling at them.

"The North has never done wrong by me, it is an honor to be accepted here."

"Before we start, I think there are some introductions due." The King in the North said looking at the three males behind Owain and Robert.

Robert introduced Arlan first, "This is my firstborn son, Arlan Baratheon."

"The boy looks like he'll be bigger than you, Baratheon." Lord Frost yelled.

Arlan was indeed the size of his father at only ten and six.

"Aye," Robert slapped his son on the shoulder, "He'll make any Baratheon proud."

Eddard turned to Owain and his shadows. Conno and Li stood proudly behind Owain.

"This is Chai Li, third born son of the sixty-ninth Yellow Emperor, Chai Do."

Murmurs went through the room but they soon quieted down as Eddard raised his hand. He turned his eyes towards his son, who shrugged, then towards the YiTish prince.

"How did you come into the company of my son?"

Li looked towards Owain with a confused face. Owain chuckled before turning back to his father.

"Speak, easterner, the King in the North questions you!" The Greatjon boomed.

"Peace Lord Umber, Li does not speak the common tongue." He turned back to his father, "I met Li when we had a contract with a YiTish lord. I managed to get him and a few others out of a burning building."

"Don't be so modest, boy. Ned, your boy cut down a dozen men and ran into a burning building to save half the village. Afterwards they all pledged eternal loyalty to him. Li, here was the only one that chose to follow him back. They renamed their village after him, or so they said. I can't really understand their gibberish."

Owain cleared his throat. He didn't like the attention he was getting. He was a second son, glory was for Robb. He then turned to Conno, "This is Conno, he hails from Sothoryos."

All eyes were on the bronzed skin man. Owain smirked, he met Conno with the same look as the one his fellow northman held now. Conno did have a unique appearance. He stood above most men, well above six feet, the size of the Baratheon men. His hair was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were as a flame of fire.

"What company you keep, nephew, a YiTish prince and a brindled man." Lord Benjen said chuckling.

"I am no brindled man, my lord." Conno said with a twitch of his mouth. His booming voice caught the room's occupants off guard.

Benjen raised an eyebrow, "No, I've heard that's what they call the men of Sothoryos. Though you don't fit the description of them. Tell us please, what are you?"

"I am a man, nothing like those unfortunate savages."

"Tell us more of your homeland." Eddard said cutting in. The King in the North had become curious. He heard tales of the savage brindled men of Sothoryos. Their monstrous looks and behavior but his son's companion was nothing like that, sans his massive size and the muscles that came with it.

"Of course, your grace. I was born in southern Sothoryos. It is nothing like the northern part you know of. It is all desert, the forest was destroyed by a fireball sent by Amunta of the Heavens. The fire was sent to wipe out the bloodless ones that rampaged the lands but it was stopped before it could fulfill its purpose, leaving one half of Sothoryos full of forested lands, the other an ocean of sand."

"That still does not explain why there are brindled men and those like you." Eddard inquired.

"Apologies, your grace. When fire failed, my ancestors took the fight to the bloodless ones. Eventually the fight was won but not without a price. The northern lands were tainted. Most retreated back south to live but there were those that were entranced by the dark power left in the north."

"Interesting story, again I ask, how did you come into the company of my son?"

"Chief General Robert assigned me as Owain's guard. Over the years we've become good friends. I follow him because I see the greatness within him."

"It seems you've gained some loyal companions, son." Eddard rubbed his beard as he thought, "Now with that done, we've business to attend to."

Owain nodded to Conno and Li dismissing them. When the two foreigners left the room, the king turned towards his lords. The attending major northern lords sat tall in wait. Whipping winds could be heard as it remained silent.

"There are dire happenings in Westeros. News has reached our land of the death of our ally and my friend, King Quellon Greyjoy. His grandson, Rodrik and his family perished as well."

A moment of silence was given for the fallen. Quellon might have been liked in the north for his adherence to the _New Way_ of the ironborn but his son's were different. Rodrik, like his late father, was stuck in the Old Way. He fought his grandfather at every turn but Quellon was respected too much among the isles. Balon had the support in the form of his younger brothers but even then they were split. The tension among the Greyjoy family sent the second eldest son of Quellon to faraway lands.

"I'm afraid that is not it. Euron Greyjoy has returned in the wake of the deaths of his family. He's called a kingsmoot."

Owain heard of Euron Greyjoy. The banished, they called him. The events behind his banishment were bone chilling.

The tale was Euron intentionally crashed his ship into his brother Balon's. In the wake of the _accident_ the entirety of the Great Kraken's crew, including Balon's son Maron, was spilled into the Smoking Sea, lost to the world. Euron blamed it on the low visibility of the sea near the doom. Upon his arrival back to the islands the survivors spoke of what happened. He was set to trial and found guilty of purposely crashing into his brother's ship. Luckily the ironborn believed no man was as accursed as the kinslayer so instead he was banished for as long as Quellon ruled. Now he was back.

"What does this have to do with the north, Ned?" Owain heard Robert ask.

Owain saw his father rapidly age before his eyes as he sighed. The second eldest Stark son knew that the bronze crown was heavy on his father's head. It was times like this that Owain was happy Robb was born first.

"Euron was banished by Quellon, his captains would not dishonor him by selecting Euron as his successor." Lord Dustin voiced his opinion.

"If only they valued honor as such. Quellon is dead and they value the living more so than the dead. Euron gained the respect of some of the ironborn through his feats of piracy across the world."

The entire known world knew the feats of the Crow's Eye. Euron had sailed to across the world, raping and pillaging wherever he went. His most known accomplishment was his battle with the infamous _Prince of the Narrow Sea_ , Salladhor Saan. Many men lost their lives at sea, not many lived to tell the tale.

"Our king is correct, the ironborn respect power and Euron has that. His Dusk Fleet is known worldwide. Not many will oppose him." Ser Wylis added.

"If Euron ascends to the Seastone Chair then chaos will follow." Benjen spoke up. Owain knew his uncle had met the man after he finally married Asha Greyjoy.

"Lord Benjen is right, but what can we do? Despite our years of being allied majority of the ironborn still do not respect us." The Lord of Barrowton said with a look of disdain.

The second son of the north watched as his father rubbed his beard in silence. Owain sighed as his eyes fell on him and Robb.

"Robb, Owain, what could we do to stop Euron?"

As heir, Robb went first, "We show our loyalty to the best Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy. He's a proven warrior and leader."

It made sense that Robb would say Theon's name. Theon had been a ward of Winterfell since the age of seven. The youngest son of Balon had been like a brother to he and Robb, but more so to Robb. He had been called back to the islands by his grandfather not a year before.

Owain saw the different looks his father's lords wore and so did the king, "Speak freely, my lords."

That's what Owain believed made his father a good king, his willingness to hear the truth. Most men and women in such a high position only like to hear what they want but his father let people speak what they believed to be true.

His uncle Benjen went first, knowing Theon the best, "Theon's a good lad, a bit promiscuous and arrogant. His skill with a blade is average but with a bow he is gifted by the Gods. As for being a leader, the boy can talk a fish out of the water."

That got a few laughs from the present lords, his father even cracked a smile.

"Aye, he can talk and shoot a bow but he is arrogant by far. That will get him in trouble, especially with a prideful bunch like the ironborn." Edric Frost was a man that Owain could respect, a warrior.

"Prince Theon is a better choice than his brother or uncle, we know that. Owain how would you go about this."

"Robb was correct in saying we put our support behind someone, but not Theon."

Owain ignored the betrayed look his brother gave him. He loved Theon like a brother but this wasn't about love, it was about choosing the right man.

Eddard narrowed his eyes, "Then who, son?"

"Rodrik Harlaw, currently he is the most powerful man in the Iron Islands. He is a sensible and a learned man. He will be Quellon's successor in bringing the ironborn into a new era."

"Both are decent options and will be taken into consideration. Anymore suggestions, my lords?"

The question was met with silence. The only response was the winds continuing to roar outside the walls of the fabled castle. A knock at the door got the attention of the men. Jonos Frost, one of the Winterguard opened the door.

"Your grace, a raven has arrived from White Harbor." Jonos was beckoned in. He handed the letter to his king before bidding goodbye.

"Dark wings, dark words, indeed my lords. According to Lord Wyman's network the south is facing dire problems."

"What has that fire-brained lizard done now?" Off all people in the world, Benjen hated the southern king most.

"Rhaegar's fiery god is finally taking hold. The High Septon does not like the progress this foreign faith is making."

Owain scowled at the mention of R'hllor. He had met many red priest during his time in Essos. Creatures more than humans. Majority of them mocked his faith, mocked the Gods. If the Gods had not made him to be so merciful his blades would have been permanently stained with their tainted blood.

"It's been sixteen years, Ned. Rhaegar has been praising his fire god for sixteen years. Why has the faith chose to stir trouble now?" Robert asked sitting his goblet of wine down.

"I'm afraid we'll have to wait for the rest of the council to arrive to speak more on that matter." The present lords nodded in respect.

Lords Manderly, Bolton held the positions of Shadowseeker and Lawspeaker, respectively. Robett Glover, who served as Battle Master, was out searching for a group of brigands that had been harassing caravans coming to and from Winterfell. The last of the royal council was Vayon Poole, The First Barterer.

"If that is all, this meeting is over, my lords." The room fell silent but that was interrupted by Robb.

"There is something, father." The prince of the north said, "The reports of the amount of game in the Wolfswood suddenly dropping is worrying. Hunter's are barely bringing home enough to survive and with winter surely coming, they are worried."

"That is troubling, coupled with the reports of the unknown beast prowling in the nights. Something will have to be done."

"I'll do it father, I can go into the forest and find out what is going on." Owain volunteered.

His father looked surprised. He looked to open his mouth to deny his son but a nod from Robert quickly changed his mind.

"You will leave at tomorrow at dusk, Jonos will accompany you."

Owain smirked, "I mean no disrespect, father, but Conno and Li are protection enough."

"That they might but Jonos is accompanying you." The king used a tone that made his voice final.

"Aye, father. I will get to the bottom of this." Owain bowed.

"If that is all, this meeting is over." Eddard rose and his lords rose with him.

They all gave their king a slight bow before he walked out of the room. The northern lords followed out after their king. Owain was the last one to leave. He wanted to find Conno and Li. His searched was was swiftly interrupted as a gauntlet covered hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Owain." He knew that voice.

He turned to see his uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne. Instead of the white armor he was known for, a shining silver set covered his body. The ever present pommel of Dawn was peeking over his shoulder. He wore a thin smile as he looked at his nephew.

"S-Uncle Arthur, it has been quite some time." Owain stopped himself from calling the man Ser Arthur. His mother hated when Owain treated his uncle coldly.

"It has, I'm sure you've gotten much better with a blade since our last spar." Arthur said trying to appeal to one of the few things they had in common.

"Much better, but still not as good as you, uncle."

"You're only a boy of one and five. You have plenty of time to be better than I ever can be." Arthur smiled.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Uncle." Owain slipped his uncle's hand off his shoulder, "It was good to see you."

Owain didn't stay long enough to see his uncle's face drop. The second prince couldn't help but be indifferent to his uncle. His final actions in the war may have ended it but his inaction in the beginning let it happen to begin with. His parents had tried to keep them away from the stories of the Dead Dragon's War but it was inevitable. Robb chose to admire his Uncle as the fabled knight who stopped the war but Owain saw him as the coward who let it start.

Quickly forgetting his uncle Owain went to find his sister. The day had only just begun and he wanted to spend time with her but first he needed to go to the godswood.

He quickly found himself surrounded by the ancient trees of the godswood of Winterfell. The massive heart tree that sat in the center of the thicket looked on wryly. Owain knelt down in front of the sour faced tree and took his dagger out. Cutting his hand open he let his blood fall freely onto the exposed roots. As the blood fell, guttural, hard words left his mouth.

The lips of the tree seemed to curve up a bit, as if it was trying to smile. With his brief prayer done Owain rose once again to find his sister. Heading towards the healing ward he found her talking to a wounded man. He smiled as an idea popped in his head. Moving stealthily crept up behind her.

"It's not nice to sneak up on people, O." Alysanne turned around grinning.

"I never could sneak up on you. You busy?"

"No, Waldon here is good now. Right Waldon?" The old man only smiled and nodded.

Alysanne giggled at the man before saying goodbye. Owain led his sister out of the area of healing.

"So, tell me all about being the youngest warrior of the Brotherhood."

His mind wandered back to his stay in essos. In the four short years of his membership of the Brotherhood he had many adventures and plenty of stories to tell.

"It's nothing like being here in the North. Over there I wasn't a prince but a warrior like everyone else. Sometimes it was hard being young and solid of faith. Uncle Robert never took it easy on me. He beat me into submission every day."

Alysanne giggled at her brother's pain, "It was good, I learned a lot and matured. But there were times where I was lonely, sad and wanted to come home. I prayed to the Gods, I asked them to give me a reason to stay. That was when I heard your voice."

Turning to see Alysanne smiling, "I heard you too, O. I sung for you."

Owain gave an identical smile, "The Gods have their ways."

"That they do, brother. Speaking of the gods, have you had any dreams lately?"

Owain forced himself not to tense up. He still wasn't sure if he wanted her to know of the nightmares he'd been having. He still didn't know what to make of them. One thing he knew about having the sight was to never act rashly on what you witnessed.

"Owain Stark, do not think you can lie to me for one second."

"I've seen a lot, most of it is worrying." Owain had his head down so his sister wouldn't see the look in his eyes.

"Like what, tell me, O?" Alysanne had a look a worry on her face. Owain was always the strong twin.

"I've dreamt of battles, bloodier than any I've fought in. Animals, the sigils of Westeros and foreign beasts alike fighting. I've seen the land a fire and iced over. There are two things that worry me the most due to their constant occurrences."

"W-what?" Alysanne's voice barely came out as a whisper. She was getting scared now. Their connection allowed her to feel his fear. His fear was evident in his eyes, it was a rare sight. Only bad things followed the times he feared his visions.

The second born prince of the north could feel the fear his sister was practically exuding. He inwardly cursed himself for letting his fear get to his twin. He reached down grabbing her hand as he steeled himself and her.

"I shouldn't be telling you this."

"No, O. We're twins, we shared our mother's womb. We can share our fear." Most of the fear had gone from the northern princess and an unknown strength had taken it's place.

Owain couldn't help but smile. While he was considered the strong twin, Alysanne had her times of being his anchor. He did not want to share the terrors of the sight with her but she would get it out some way.

"The first thing is the lack of wolves, they aren't there." Owain was worried, he saw representations of the major houses of Westeros, even some minor ones but no wolves.

"What is the second thing?"

"There are armies and generals leading them, seven of them. Each leader is blurred from my sight but the power exuding from them keeps me frozen as the battle rages around me. With each dream everything becomes clearer but the last one was moons ago."

"Remember they don't always come true." Alysanne said with a voice full of hope.

"You're right, I'm blessed by the Gods, I have to remember it's a gift and not a curse." While he did see it as a gift from the Old Gods, he knew more than likely trouble was coming not only to Westeros, but the world.

* * *

 **There it is guys. I love the support I'm getting. I came in to this story worried about the different turn I've taken. Not to mention the take I have on the Gods and magic. Nevertheless it is my story so I'll write how I want but with you guys in mind. As you can see things and characters have changed. Some of the differences are not so obvious but you'll get to see how the changes affect Planetos.**

 **On another note, I hope you guys like all the OC's i've introduced, I assure you they're all unique with great backstories that will play a part in the story to come. Please let me know what you guys think. By the way I wanted to know if you guys think it's too modern for the Stark children to call Robert uncle. Remember here he was a constant presence. Something I was wondering about was the old tongue. Would you guys like me to come up with some words or just state when characters are speaking it? Keep in mind that coming up with a new words for it won't be easy so it'll take some time. Until next time, LKnight out.**


	10. Appendix I

**Appendix I**

* * *

 _ **House Stark of Winterfell**_

 _King Eddard Stark, First of His Name._

 _His first wife, Lady Catelyn*, of House Tully, died of winter chill._

 _Their son:_

 _Prince Robb Stark, Heir to the Kingdom of the North, a man of sixteen._

 _His wife, Queen Ashara Stark, of House Dayne._

 _Their Children:_

 _Prince Owain Stark, twin of Princess Alysanne, a boy of fifteen._

 _Princess Alysanne Stark, twin of Prince Owain, a girl of fifteen._

 _Princess Voria Stark, a girl of thirteen._

 _Prince Rickard Stark, a boy of ten._

* * *

 _His Brother, Benjen Stark, Lord of Seareach, Warden of The Howling Coast._

 _His wife, Lady Asha Stark, of House Greyjoy_

 _Their children, dubbed Sea Wolves:_

 _Beron, heir to Seareach, a boy of seven._

 _Lyanna, firstborn daughter, a girl of six._

 _Yara, youngest child, a girl of five._

* * *

 _His High Council:_

 _Ser Wylis Manderly, High Overseer_

 _Trevyr Dustin, Chief Commander of the Winterguard_

 _Lord Roose Bolton, Lawspeaker_

 _Robett Glover, Battle Master_

 _Vayon Poole, First Barterer_

 _Vacant, High Admiral_

 _Wyman Manderly, Shadowseeker_

 _Maester Luwin, First Healer_

* * *

 _His Winterguard:_

 _Trevyr Dustin, called the Ageless Axe, Chief Commander_

 _Ser Mark Ryswell_

 _Ethan Glover_

 _Theo Wull_

 _Jonos Frost_

 _Garen Umber, called Giant Fist Garen_

 _Halys Lightfoot, called Silent Hal_

 _Aethan Blackmyre, called Mud Devil_

 _Eddard Karstark_

Principal Houses sworn to Winterfell are Umber, Reed, Karstark, Bolton, Mormont, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Manderly, Flint, Tallhart and House Stark of The Howling Coast.

* * *

 _ **House Targaryen of King's Landing**_

 _King Rhaegar, First of His Name_

 _His first wife, Elia Martell*, assassinated._

 _Their children:_

 _Princess Rhaenys Targaryen*, assassinated._

 _Prince Aegon Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, Lord of Dragonstone a boy of seventeen._

* * *

 _His wife, Queen Cersei Targaryen, of House Lannister_

 _Their children:_

 _Aemon Targaryen, first born son of King Rhaegar and Queen Cersei, a boy of fourteen._

 _Aelora Targaryen, second born and only daughter of King Rhaegar and Queen Cersei, a girl of nine._

* * *

 _His Bastard son, Jon Frostburn, Lord of Summerhall._

* * *

 _His brother, Prince Viserys Targaryen, exiled to Pentos._

 _His wife, Orbella, daughter of Magister Ordello of Pentos._

 _Their sons:_

 _Maegor Targaryen, a boy of seven._

 _Aerys Targaryen, a newborn._

* * *

 _His sister, Princess Daenerys Targaryen._

* * *

 _His Small Council:_

 _Lord Jon Connington, Hand of the King_

 _Ser Jonothor Darry, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard_

 _Lord Stannis Baratheon, Master of Laws_

 _Ser Jaremy Rykker, Master of Coins_

 _Lord Monford Velaryon, Master of Ships_

 _Varys, Master of Whisperers_

 _Gormon, Grandmaester_

* * *

 _His Kingsguard:_

 _Ser Jonothor Darry, Lord Commander_

 _Ser Preston Greenfield_

 _Thoros of Myr, called the White Flame_

 _Ser Richard Horpe_

 _Ser Balon Swann_

 _Ser Myles Mooton_

 _Ser Arys Oakheart_

Principal houses sworn to Iron Throne are Blount, Buckwell, Chelsted, Hayford, House Targaryen of Dragonstone, Rosby, Rykker, Stokeworth, Thorne and House Frostburn.

* * *

 _ **House Arryn**_

 _King Jon, First of His Name_

 _His nephew, Elbert Arryn, heir to the Kingdom of Mountain and Vale._

 _His wife, Ysilla Arryn, of House Royce._

 _Their child:_

 _Alyssa Arryn, betrothed to Oswin Arryn, a girl of fifteen._

* * *

 _His nephew, Denys Arryn, High Steward of the Vale, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon._

 _His wife, Aemma Arryn, niece of King Jon Arryn._

 _Their children:_

 _Ser Oswin Arryn, betrothed to Alyssa Arryn, a man of nineteen._

 _Ser Hughor Arryn, a man of seventeen._

 _Lyla Arryn, a girl of fifteen._

 _Eddard Arryn, a boy of fourteen._

* * *

 _His Small Council:_

 _Ser Denys Arryn, High Steward_

 _Ser Nestor Royce, Lord Commander of the Mountain Knights_

 _Lord Yohn 'Bronze' Royce, Master of Laws_

 _Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin_

 _Lord Triston Sunderland, Master of Ships_

 _Lady Trisha Upcliff, Master of Whisperers_

 _Garmen, Grandmaester_

* * *

 _His Mountain Knights:_

 _Ser Nestor Royce, Lord Commander_

 _Ser Lyn Corbray_

 _Ser Jon Redfort_

 _Ser Adrian Stonebreaker_

 _Ser Ryston Sunderland_

 _Ser Tryston Sunderland_

 _Ser Mandon Moore_

Principal houses sworn to The Eyrie are Royce, Egen, Waynwood, Melcolm, Hunter, Hersy, Belmore, Redfort and Corbray.

 **x-X-x**

 _ **House Greyjoy**_

 _King Quellon, Second of His Name*_

 _His son, Balon, died at sea*_

 _Balon's children:_

 _Rodrik, died at sea, details of death unknown.*_

 _Maron, died at sea with his father.*_

 _Asha, married Benjen Stark, now Lady of the Howling Coast._

 _Prince Theon, rightful heir to the Kingdom of Iron Isles._

* * *

 _His son, Euron 'Crows Eye', Contending candidate in kingsmoot_

* * *

 _His son, Victarion, Captain of the Iron Fleet._

 _His son, Urras Greyjoy_

* * *

 _His son, Aeron 'Damphair', Leader of Drowned Men._

* * *

 _Small Council: Disassembled until new king is chosen._

Principal house sworn to Pyke are Harlaw, Botley, Goodbrother, Sparr, Merlyn and Blacktyde

* * *

 **That's that guys. Be a little considerate with the format, as this is my first appendix. Let me know how you like it. Throw out any suggestions but until next time. LKnight out!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: As the World Turns**

* * *

 **First of all, thank you guys for all of the support. The favorite, the follows and the reviews mean a lot. Keep it up! Secondly I see there are some questions which I will answer (To best of my ability) right now.**

 **: Owain is not perfect and Robb is not an idiot. This was the first chapter both of them appeared in. You can't judge either of them from last chapter alone.**

 **Ruci: PM me and i'll explain the best I can.**

 **Alex: Thank you for the compliments, my friend. That fuels my fire.**

 **Last Enclave: At the end of last chapter Ned got letters from his allies and Rhaegar. The letters of his allies let him know they were coming to his aid. Rhaegar's told him the war would end with Tywin's capture and so it ended with a trapped lion, his fate will be an interesting one.**

 **12D3 Gorillaz: Yes my friend, he did get the girl. Just keep reading on.**

* * *

 **Rhaegar**

 _King's Landing, 299 AC_

The peace that held the realm was now uneasy. The High Septon had never been his friend. Since the day he had announced his following of a new faith, the rotund man had been against him. It mattered not to him. He was king and he was one of the chosen of R'hllor. To his delight, the lord of the light had spread throughout the realm, most notably the Stormlands and the Crownlands.

"Your grace, something seems to be bothering you." Rhaegar looked up to see his Hand and closest friend.

"Evil is on the horizon Jon. But R'hllor's light grows brighter." Rhaegar could feel it. As of late the flames had grown larger, brighter and more intense. His God, the one true God, was awakening.

"You speak of the Faith?" Jon asked.

Rhaegar nearly snorted at his ignorance. Jon was a nonbeliever of Gods. He did not blame his friend for his lack of knowledge, of sight. There were many like him. He would be the one to guide those from the shade of ignorance into the light. For now he would play the small game.

"Yes, Septon Bart moves dangerously. He and the Most Devout had been meeting nearly by the day."

"We must stop this sedition before it becomes our downfall. The Faith believe they are above the crown. We cannot allow that type of behavior. You are the highest power in the realm, we already let three kingdoms secede."

Rhaegar frowned at his friend's words. They were true, it was one of the reasons he coveted Jon do much. The man spoke his mind. Sometimes it was what he needed to hear.

"The Starks, Arryns and Greyjoys will see the light. For now we must deal with the problems in our own lands. Call the council and invite the illustrious High Septon."

* * *

Images flashed in front of his eyes as he gazed into the flames. He saw it all. He saw the shadows slowly creeping from the North. The mighty white lion roaring upon the rock. The red wave coming from the east. It was much more that he saw but it was not clear to him. Nonetheless he knew his place in the set of things, a leader but the leader. No, that place belonged to his son, the destined prince. The one who would lead the world into a new era.

Today would be the start of that. He pulled himself away from the brazier as the door opened. There stood the boy, no the man in question. He looked every part of a Targaryen. His silver hair was cut short, allowing his bright purple eyes to show. He was nearly as tall as his father but lankier. A confident smirk was planted on his face. The two embraced quickly before parting. Rhaegar would not trade his son for any other.

They had no time to talk as the members of the Small Council poured in. First came his Hand, followed by the Lord Commander Jonothor Darry. Then the rest settled in. Rhaegar looked at the men around him. Stannis Baratheon sat as his Master of Laws. Ser Jaremy Rykker was the Master of Coin. His kinsman Monford Velaryon took the position of Master of Ships. The man known as the spider, a man who saved his life, Varys was Master of Whisperers. The Grandmaester was out taking care of his pregnant wife.

"My lords-" Rhaegar began but suddenly the door creaked open.

A robust man, clothed in robes, decked in jewels and gold strutted in with his nose pointed high. His eyes fell on no man as he walked to his seat. The men of the Small Council glared at the man as he sat down.

"Nice of you to join us, your holiness." Rhaegar failed to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

"Likewise, King Rhaegar."

"Now that we are all here we can discuss the matters of the realm." Rhaegar looked to his Hand, "Lord Connington."

The fiery headed man cleared his throat, "The first and most important order of business is the recent actions of the Faith."

All eyes turned to the so called representative of the Seven. To his credit he didn't falter under the gaze of the powerful men.

"What of them? We only preach the true faith. It is out of my control as to what is done because of it."

"Watch your tongue, that is the king you speak to." Ser Jonothor Darry eyed the man with eyes of fire.

"I only speak the truth. The voice of the seven comes from me and their will breaks free. Remember who crowned your ancestor, _King_ Rhaegar." He spat, focusing on the word king.

He pushed away from the table, storming out of the room.

"You were not dismissed." Ser Jonothor rose to stop the religious head.

"Stop, let him be, Ser Jonothor. Keeping him here would only cause further problems."

"We cannot allow disrespect such as that. Word would spread and then lords down to smallfolk would think they could challenge you." Lord Connington advised.

"He is right, your grace. The Faith think they're untouchable. We must shatter that illusion." The Lord of Storm's End spoke through gritted teeth.

"Do not worry my lords, all will be fine. There are other things to be discussed, if you would continue Lord Connington."

"The next matter of business is a good one. Volantis and Pentos have chosen to lengthen the trade alliance. Speaking of Essos, Prince Viserys has welcomed another baby boy into the world."

Cheers went up for the prince across the sea. Rhaegar felt joy of having another nephew but still the pain of sending his brother across the sea in exile, ached his heart. After his return from capture Viserys still believed he was king. He knew he would be a threat to his throne and even to Aegon. He had no set place, so Rhaegar set him up with a daughter of a Magister of Pentos.

"Things are going well for the kingdom. But there are still those who wish to break our peace. There are those within the kingdom and those outside of it. The time is coming for world peace and unity, a plan I've been concocting since before my rise to the throne."

* * *

 **Owain**

 _Winterfell, 299 AC_

It was happening again. It was another dream. He was seeing through another man's eyes again He looked around him seeing all white, a pearl white. The walls, the chairs, the bed, all made of the same unique substance. In front of him sat a beautiful woman, almost unearthly. She quickly reminded him of his mother. Like his mother, her dark hair cascaded down to the small of her back and her sparkling violet eyes shined all the same, the only difference was her skin was pale, where his mother's had a darker tint.

" _Sister, you have to see reason. Ahor is not the boy we once knew." They spoke a language Owain did not know but strangely he could understand them._

 _The woman turned with eyes of a burning star, "What would you know, Eldric? You abandoned us the moment you received the hand of that sea temptress. You only returned when father died. Ahor looked up to you and you abandoned him, abandoned me."_

 _Owain could feel guilt and sadness but it was not his own. He continued watching through the man's eyes as he reached out towards his sister._

" _Aila, I do apologize for my prolonged absence but my life is not with the empire anymore. I have my own family and my own people to rule."_

" _Do you forget you were once in line to rule this empire?" She spat._

" _I have not, but I am no longer. The fated Sapphire Emperor is no more. Now I am Magnar mu Turah." He finished his sentence speaking in Old tongue._

" _Magnar mu Turah?" Owain thought in confusion. He had never come across such a title during his studies with Lord Reed, the foremost expert on the lore of First Men._

" _Don't speak your savage language in my presence." The woman spat._

" _I've spoken my peace, sister." The man moved closer to his sister, "Aila, dear sister, I know I've missed much. I still love you so, even Ahor despite his faults. But sister you know the gift does not lie. Watch our brother, my eyes see a great darkness in him."_

 _The woman said nothing. She stubbornly ignored her brother. Owain felt Eldric sigh before turning away. Walking towards the door he took one last look before opening the door. As the door opened a bright light enveloped Owain's sight._

In an instant he was back in his own body. He sat up, his breathing was hard and his body was covered in cold sweat.

There was only one question in his mind, "Who were they?"

* * *

 **Robb**

The morning had come and gone. Winterfell was full of life. Robb moved quickly as he navigated his way to the First Keep. Since his mentor had gone with his mother into Winter Town, and Owain had gone off somewhere, so he decided to train with the Winter Wolves.

He made it to the training grounds of the elite fighting force to see a surprising sight. The King in the North and one of his bannerman battled against each other. He could tell by the fatigued look on their faces that they had been at it for a while. Lords Baratheon, Umber and Frost stood among the soldiers, watching. His father and Lord Dustin circled each other. Both men wielded greatswords, though Lord Dustin's was larger. The circling stopped and his father gained an animalistic look in his eye. Robb knew that look, as did the Warden of the Barrowlands. The large man lunged forward. His father met strength with strength. Their massive blades met in a clash of sparks. Robb smiled as his father used a move Robb had shown him. With a deft use of agility, the king took a step to the left sliding his right foot. In the same motion he released himself from the clash, placing his blade at his bannerman's stomach.

"Do you, yield?"

"Aye." The Dustin lord grinned, "Who would've thought our king, the Quiet Wolf, moved so nimbly."

Everyone including his father laughed. Robb moved to show himself but he was stopped by the arrival of the queen.

"Don't be so surprised, Will. Westeros learned long ago that the Quiet Wolf bites the hardest." A smile adorned the queen's face as she walked towards her husband,

Even though the woman wasn't his mother by blood, he loved her. He never met his blood mother. She died from the chill s not long after birthing him. Ashara had come and filled every void in the Stark household. She never treated him wrong or any different than the children that came from her own womb.

"Hello father, mother." Robb greeted as he made himself known. "Lord Dustin, Ser Arthur it is good seeing you as well."

"Robb, you've come to join us?" His father asked.

"I have, father."

The King in the North nodded before signaling for his greatsword. Robb shedded the fur cloak around his shoulders. He stood in the middle of the tiltyard as he drew his sword. The crown prince gave a few practice swings until his father stood in front of him. No words were spoken as they nodded to each other as a sign of respect and readiness.

The teaching of his mentor were in full effect. He eyed his father looking for a twitch of his muscles, a shift in weight, anything to get a read on him. After a while of nothing happening he saw an opening. Taking a step forward he slid to the left swinging downward from the right. The blade would have cut across his father's chest if not for his blade being in the way.

Robb was strong but not stronger than his father. Eddard, who regularly sparred with the Greatjon and Lord Dustin, both men who were massive in their own right, easily pushed his son's attack away.

"Do not fall for everything opening you see, son. It could be your end. Be patient."

Robb was on the defensive now. He back pedaled, parrying his father's attacks. He could feel his hands numbing as the greatsword continued clashing with his blade. Quickly thinking he parried and moved away from his father's ferocious attacks.

" _Quiet Wolf be damned."_

Taking advantage of the distance Robb used his superior speed to his advantage. The King in the North was hard pressed to block Robb's overhead slash. Robb continued his attack. Again he saw an opening. Shooting forward, he attacked his father's left side. Instantly he knew he made a mistake as a his father used the full force of his planted left foot to burst forward and ram his shoulder into Robb. His vision instantly blurred as his father impacted against him. The next thing he knew his father was picking him up off the ground.

"You're too confident in your abilities. You're good for your age, aye. But listening to those who lived through a war would do you well. Do not ever underestimate your opponent. That is a quick route to death. Do you understand?"

Robb dared not bow his head as his father scolded him. He only nodded, taking in his father's words. His father was a decent swordsman but his true strength lied in his mind, his ability to think, to lead.

"Aye father, I understand."

His father nodded. Robb watched as the King and Queen walked away with a group of knights behind them. Robb continued his training. He sparred against a few willing Winter Wolves before going to train his form and technique in isolation. His training went as usual. With every swing of his weapon he could feel himself improve, miniscule, but improving nonetheless. He would strive until he could single handedly defend his family and kingdom. No man, no woman would dare threaten the peace of the North. He would be known through time as a great king, warrior and in time a great father. These thoughts were what empowered him to train so hard. It was nearing midday when he felt his body starting to heavily protest any kind of movement. He decided it was time to retire.

* * *

Robb yawned as he walked through the halls of Winterfell. He had slept longer than he would have liked. The sun had retreated high into the sky and the moon had began taking it's place. Yet it was still early enough for the halls of Winterfell to be alive. That was why Robb found it odd that he was alone.

"Get enough sleep?"

Robb jumped at the voice. He turned to see a smirking Owain. Childhood memories of similar situations entered his mind.

"Don't you ever make noise?" He asked in slight irritation.

"Only when I want to be noticed, brother."

"Where is everyone?"

Robb stiffened as Owain turned serious. It was times when his brother suddenly shifted from light to dark that worried Robb. It was like he was a totally different person.

"There's been an attack." The second born prince's tone was solemn, and stern, "Raiders came from the sea and attacked Seareach."

"We must go get help." Robb moved to leave but Owain stopped him.

"Father, Robert and Uncle Benjen already left with a regiment of Winter Wolves. You are the Stark in Winterfell."

Robb didn't know whether to feel immense pride or insulted. Being the Stark in Winterfell was a great honor but being left behind from a war party could be seen as an insult. Nonetheless he had a duty to do.

"What of Asha and the children?"

"Last word was they were headed here."

Robb nodded, he had things to handle now that he was the Stark in Winterfell. He smiled up at his brother, he wouldn't have to do it alone.

* * *

A few days had passed and word still had not come from Seareach. Robb had started to get anxious. It took a fortnight to get to Seareach from Winterfell. There was still much time before his father and uncle reached the besieged castle. He only hoped Asha and the kids were safe until then. Though he was sure his cousin Will would keep them safe, after all he was a better swordsman than Robb's uncle, so said his father.

The baseborn warrior had proven himself different than his Ryswell kin. Going against the wishes of his grandfather, his mother sent him to Winterfell when he was twelve. Being the honorable man that he is, Robb's father took him in and raised him as his uncle Brandon would have. His thoughts were interrupted by knocks at the door.

"Come in." He instructed.

In came the First Healer of the North, Maester Luwin. The elderly man had birth every Stark child, sans Will as he was born in secret. The old man walked over to Robb with heavy eyes.

"Ravens have arrived, my prince. I apologize but none are from his grace or Seareach."

"No need to apologize, Luwin." Robb said as he took the letters.

His heart stopped as he saw the sigil on both letters. The three headed dragon of House Targaryen sat proudly on the first one, while the second one was the merman of House Manderly. The first because there had not been direct communication between the two ruling houses of the North and South since the war had ended. The second because he knew what it contained. It was time, his time to marry had come.

"Fetch my mother, hurry."

He would deal with his marriage later, first came the letter from the south. Usually this would be for his father but he was the ruling Stark in Winterfell. He took the bronze dagger from his hip and sliced across the dragon, opening the letter.

Robb sighed as he finished reading. Hopefully times like this wouldn't come around often during his reign, if at all.

"Robb, my dear, is something wrong?" He heard the soft voice of his mother.

The crown prince looked up to see not only his mother but the twins. Robb couldn't help but smile at the view, it reminded him of his childhood. Owain and Alysanne never left the protection of their mother's skirt. He didn't see him but he knew that Ser Arthur was standing guard outside the door, he never left the side of his sister.

"Unfortunately, it seems like Rhaegar wants the kings of the realm to meet. On top of that, Lord Manderly believes it's time that I and Wynafryd marry."

"Well we cannot act without your father's word about the meeting of kings but your marriage on the other hand." Ashara smiled at her son.

"It's finally time Robb, you and Wynafryd are made for each other." Alysanne squealed.

"I can admit that I care for her, I love her in fact. It's not often a prince gets to marry the woman he loves.

"You sound lovestruck, brother." Owain chuckled.

"I am, O. Wynnie is an amazing woman. I'd have no other woman as my wife." Robb said quickly forgetting about the stressful situation with his Uncle's home under attack.

"I will find Ser Wylis and we will handle everything. Do not worry yourself, my dear."

The family moment was broken up by a guard barging into the room. He was forgiven for his intrusion as he announced that the king was back. Despite being confused at his father's presence Robb took off towards the entrance of Winterfell.

Upon his arrival outside he was greeted by his father, Lord Robert and less than half of a regiment of Winter Wolves. His father must have left the other three hundred with his uncle as he saw no signs of battle amongst the men or his father. Though his father did have that ice cold look he had when something was wrong.

"Father, I didn't expect you back so early." Robb heard his mother siblings arrive but he kept his eyes on his father.

"Some...unexpected developments forced a change in plans. Asha was taken." The somber tone his father used made his heart clench.

"No, how?" His mother ran to his father as he got down from his horse.

The king held his queen close, "She stayed true to her warrior ways, lead the defense on the walls. Men climbed the walls and took her. Now Ben is on a warpath."

"Poor bastards, whoever they might be. A wolf is on their tracks now." He heard Lord Robert say.

Robb shuddered, he pitied the poor beings that stood in the way of his uncle getting his wife back. He remembered the days his own father would carry his Uncle back to his rooms after he trained himself into exhaustion. To his fortune, his arduous training paid off. His skill with the blade came second to none and only rivaled by a few, namely Ser Arthur and Jonos Frost. His skills in tracking were some of the best also, Robb had no doubt he would find his wife.

"What of the children and cousin Will?" He heard Alysanne ask.

"And what of the attackers, do we know who they are?" Owain asked soon after in almost perfect sync.

"Will did his duty and protected the children. As for the ones who did this, I haven't a clue. The ships bore no sigil, nor their armor. All of this is strange, I'll know more when Ben finishes questioning the survivors."

"I've more news father." He could tell his father was tired but he needed to know of Rhaegar's daring request. He would let his mother tell him of the coming wedding.

"King Rhaegar has requested a meeting of kings."

The king sighed, "I will deal with this later. I am tired and I wish to clean myself and rest."

Robb nodded, he watched as his father and mother walked off. The Winterguard and Ser Arthur followed behind them.

"It's best we all retire. Tomorrow will not be easy. We will need our rest." Alysanne offered.

Robb nodded, Aly was right. Tomorrow held many challenges. It seemed the world was once again on the move. For better or worse, he did not know.

* * *

 **That's the end of that guys. The only thing that I have to say is I have an appendix for you guys. It'll be put up with this chapter. Until next time, LKnight out.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The Time Comes**

 **I want to make it clear that the North isn't some super power (yet). Yes, it's been sixteen years but the rest of the world has sort of shut them out in favor of the Iron Throne. Not many improvements have been made, at least not as many as it should have in sixteen years. They only survive because of their trade with the Vale, Iron Islands and by association, their trade agreements and that of their allies. Though there are some significant improvements that will be mentioned soon.**

* * *

 **Eddard**

* * *

 _Winterfell, 299 AC_

The weight of the crown was once again weighing on his head. For sixteen years everything had been relatively peaceful, with the exception of wildling raids-which had greatly increased in the last year and small disputes amongst lords, minor and major. He ruled justly and honorably, and for that his people loved him. Now things were slowly changing and he wasn't sure it was good change.

First an unknown group of raiders attacked his brother's keep and took his wife. Currently nothing was known as to who did it but word had come back of sightings of his wife somewhere in Essos. Then he returned home to find out the King on the Iron Throne requested a meeting of the four kings of Westeros. Lastly was the least worrying, the time for his heir to get married was here.

All of that would be sorted out in a few moments. He sat in the high seat at the head of the table in the council chambers. One by one the member of his High Council took their seats, with the addition of his two eldest sons, his brother Benjen and his blooded-brother Robert Baratheon.

"Let us start with the good news, my lords. In just a fortnight, my heir will marry the daughter of Ser Wylis."

Ned couldn't help but smile as the cheers erupted. He was truly happy for his son and Ser Wylis for his daughter. It was rare for someone of such a high station to marry for love but now it will have been two generations of Stark men to do so. As the congratulations died down he put on his king's face.

"But not all is joyful in the North. As you all know, nearly a moon's turn ago the home of my brother, Lord Benjen, was attacked. Unfortunately, his wife, Lady Asha, was taken. Until now we knew nothing of the attack or the attackers. With the help of Lord Wyman's network we've some possible places of her whereabouts. Lord Wyman, if you would."

The plump man wiggled, as he sat up comfortably.

"My pleasure your grace. As our king said, we know next to nothing of the events at Seareach. What we do know is there possible destination...Essos or more specifically, Qarth. There has been word of sightings of Lady Asha already in Braavos."

"It was not but a moon ago. It's not possible to get from the Howling Coast to Essos in that time span." The whispered tone of Lord Bolton cut in.

"By sea, Lord Bolton, that would be true." Lord Wyman answered.

Ned shifted uncomfortably, "What do you mean?" Robett Glover asked.

"I mean, they slipped right under our noses. It seems whoever did this is clever by far." Lord Wyman answered vaguely once more.

Ned could see his lords getting annoyed at the closely guarded answers, "Answer in clear, Lord Wyman. They need to know."

The Lord of White Harbor nodded, "The retreat to the sea was real but it was also a ruse. A group of them disguised themselves as a traveling caravan, with Lady Asha as cargo. Using the chaos to their advantage they-."

"They what, Lord Manderly?" Vayon Poole inquired.

"They acquired a ship from my port and traveled by sea." The self disappointment was evident in his voice.

"No blame is to go to Lord Manderly. He was instructed to put majority of his efforts into searching Ironman's Bay. If there is blame, lay it on me. I believed they would leave as they came. Fortunately we do know their destination. I've given my brother leave to search for his wife."

Ned turned to Benjen who stood up, "My lords, recent times have not been good to me. For my children, for me, I will find my wife."

A solemn, understanding silence was given. The lords of the High Council nodded in understanding, as any of them would do the same for their wife.

"Onto the the situation of this requested meeting of kings. I've gotten no response from the Ironborn but King Jon will be attending and so will I. This conclave of kings will be held upon a trade galley. Each king will arrive with two guards. I will be taking the Chief Commander and Jonos Frost."

"My king, is it wise to let yourself be so vulnerable?" The Lord of the Dreadfort asked.

"Do not worry, Lord Bolton, Ser Martyn will follow me in a galley of his own, along with fifty Winter Wolves."

Lord Bolton nodded in acceptance. Though Eddard was sure the man had his doubts but he would rightfully keep them to himself. He was a smart man but Ned knew he was always looking for a way to raise the influence of his house in the north. The marriage of his son, Ser Domeric, to Lord Grafton's daughter was a bit worrying. The Grafton's allied with throne during the war and only surrendered because of the impossible odds. He was sure their real loyalty was to the dragons. It mattered not at the moment, Bolton knew his place.

"If I may speak freely, your grace." Eddard nodded at the old Maester, "Do you not think it a coincidence that he calls this meeting when trouble starts to arise in his kingdom?"

"I assure you, Luwin, there will be no alliances made between the north and the Iron Throne. If he is looking for help, he will get none."

"What if it is not an alliance he seeks." Luwin continued.

"Then he will get what he deserved all those years ago. Make no mistake, my guard will not drop in the Targaryen's presence. We will all be vulnerable out at sea."

The wolf inside was beginning to stir. He could feel himself trapping the growl trying to escape his throat. Though his anger wasn't as great as Benjen's, he still held a decent amount of scorn for the _Burnt King_.

"That is all for the day, my lords. We will reconvene when necessary."

His lords nodded. Ned rose first and the lords and princes second. He was the first to leave. He released a sigh as he moved back to his quarters, all he wanted to do was lay with his wife.

"Father." He heard before a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Owain, what is it?" He asked turning around.

"Allow me to go with Uncle Benjen."

Ned narrowed his eyes. Owain stood with his head down. His son knew it was not fit for a man, let alone a prince to talk with his head down. While Owain wasn't outgoing, he wasn't exactly shy either. Panic wracked his body when he remembered the other times his son acted as such.

"Owain, lift your head." His voice was stern and commanding.

Owain slowly lifted his head. Just like the first time, he got the chills as he looked into his son's glowing eyes.

"I must go father, the Gods have spoken."

It was a dilemma. He did not want to send his son out again so soon. But to defy the Gods was not what he wanted to do. He had seen the wrath of the Gods himself. Again, Owain would be a great asset in finding Asha. From the letters Robert sent of his progress, Owain was coming along in tracking himself.

"What did you see?" He asked. No matter who was asking he would know what he was sending his son into.

"There is something in the east, it's calling out to me. There is-." The prince's voice faded, his shoulders sank and his head lowered once again.

He saw his son's shoulders begin to jerk up and down. The sudden movement was quickly followed by soft sobs. This pained him, it took him back to before Owain was fostered at Greywater Watch-In fact the events before was the exact reason he sent him to Howland.

He held him like he was the same, afraid, seven year old boy he was then.

"Why me, why me, father? Why was I chosen for this?"

It broke his heart. Hearing the despair in his son's voice melted his icy exterior. In a way it was cruel for the Gods to bestow a babe with such a task.

"What have you seen?" He repeated the words again. Hopefully he could help his son bear the weight upon his shoulders.

"Too much. I've seen ice blue eyes staring at me from inside a white mist. I've ran from warriors made of stone. Blood flooding Westeros. The sky turning black. The-."

Ned gripped his son's shoulders as he began to ramble. Burden or not, his son had been given a gift from the Gods.. Some of the talents that Owain had were unseen. He, himself, could not fathom what power coursed through his son. Only one man could have and he was dead, gone from this life.

"Owain, son, this ability, this gift is yours. Take hold of it and own it. It was no mistake that you alone were chosen for this. That reason we do not know as of yet but what we do know is you can be great-you will be great."

"Father, I do not know if I can be what you or everyone else expects me to be."

The King in the North knew what needed to be done now. Since the discovery of his son's uniqueness, he had been sent to men that Ned believed come groom him into what the Gods desired. Now was the time to put his skills to use. Hopefully it would instill a sense of purpose in Owain so that he would not feel so lost in the world. He knew that feeling himself. Being a second son was never easy.

"You will travel with your uncle. You will help him on his search for Asha but the Old Gods will call out for you. When they do, you will answer their call. I will inform your uncle of this. Go, get ready for your journey, for it will not be an easy one."

A heavy sigh escaped his chest as his son walked away. He would have to reach out to Howland. This was not something he was well versed in, Howland was. Lord Orin told him this day would come. The late Lord Reed was an immensely wise man, he was right, this was not something he could prepare for.

"Jonos!" He called out knowing the Frost warrior was there, "Tell Lord Benjen he is to meet me in my solar as soon as he can."

* * *

 **Robb**

The day had come. He was to be married. Would his father be angry with him for being nervous? Would his dear Wynafryd hate him for the feeling in his stomach.

"Be calm, brother." Robb instantly felt at ease when his brother's hand landed on his shoulder.

Owain and his Uncle Benjen had stayed a few extra days for his wedding. They would leave after the ceremony, not even staying for the feast. Robb understood, he was grateful they would be there.

"Is it wrong for me to be feeling like this?"

"No brother, this is the rest of your life. You have a right to be nervous about it."

Robb nodded but he didn't fail to notice his brother's somber mood. In the last few days he saw that Owain's usual wolfish smirk had been replaced by an icy facade. Something was bothering him. He tried to find out but alas Owain told him nothing. He had blocked himself off from everyone, even their mother and Alysanne. He asked his father about it but he gave him the same icy look and told him it was not the time for it, to worry about his life with Wynafryd. So that was what Robb did, he could not help Owain if he did not want to be helped. Time had expired, he was to be wed and Owain was leaving again.

"O, you've only been back two moons. I thought you wanted to be back home." Robb tried to stop himself from sounding angry but from the flinch Owain gave, he failed.

"Leaving is not what I want to do. It is willed by the Gods."

Robb stopped fiddling with his doublet and turn towards his brother, giving him a confused look.

"Willed by the Gods?"

Owain sighed. All sound left the room as Owain began pacing. He finally stopped, looking back at Robb.

"Do you remember when we were children and we had those bouts of sickness?"

Robb shuddered as he remembered the feel of his skin. Cold beyond belief. He had heard Maester Luwin say that no living being should have such a feel to their skin, only the dead. Owain had it worst, his skin would go from burning hot to dead cold. One moment he would be red, the next pale white. It went on for days. Nothing that the primary healer of the North knew could help them. It wasn't until Lord Reed appeared from his traveling keep. Robb never could remember what happened after that, only that he and Owain were better. Though they were different.

Robb nodded, "It wasn't a sickness, not for me. The Gods awakened a gift bestowed upon me at birth. I know not what it is, nor does father or Lord Howland. I can do things, see things that no man should."

He stood there in silence. His brother was chosen by the Gods, he could not doubt his father or Lord Reed. Old Nan had told them stories of greenseers when they were children but Owain said whatever he was, was unknown. What was it? Was his brother in danger? He did not know but his trust in the Old Gods was true. But he was still the older brother and he was his protector, his keeper.

"Come brother, we will pray."

"Robb, you are to be married soon. We don't-."

Robb flashed a smile, "We have time brother. We leave the tedious preparation to the women, now come."

They exited the room only to find Owain's shadows and the eldest son of Robert Baratheon. Robb smiled at the new additions.

"Well, looks like we'll have company."

"Where are we going?" Arlan asked.

"The godswood." Owain answered, meeting the eyes of the three young men.

"It has happened again?" Canno asked in his normal obtuse voice.

Robb looked in surprise. They knew of his brother's secret. A tinge of hurt folded in his stomach but the look of guilt in his brother's eyes melted it away. He could see the tale of being different in his eyes. One that he wished he could have lived for him.

"Well, come now. We haven't much time before my life is tied to another." Robb grinned as he walked away.

* * *

 **Mance**

He could feel his feet beginning to numb. Thoughts raced through his head as he paced in his hut. He could feel it, feel them. The winter winds had begun blowing and with them came death. The cold had started it's deathly slow advance a year before. The Magnar of Thenn had sent word that ice had begun encompassing his mountains. Now the freezing cold was slowly moving south. Taking the lives of the young and old alike. Death knew no difference.

It was time to attempt to unite the Free Folk once more. His first attempt was decisively cut short by a joint effort of the Thenns and the mysterious clans of the Ionnan. The Thenns, he knew to fear. Styr was a hard man and ruled his people justly and with an bronze fist. The clans that settled high above on the twin peaks of the Frostfangs-hence their name-were a mystery to most. He himself knew next to nothing about them. Only that they moved swift and fast. By the time word had come of them being sighted, they were long gone before anyone could confirm the claims.

"Mance!" His wife, Dalla barged in. Fear was etched on her face.

"What is it?" He asked calmly, attempting to counter her panic.

"It's Val, she's had another dream. You need to hear what she has to say."

Mance followed his wife with no question. Val had been instrumental in keeping his people safe. While he had failed to unite the entirety of the population north of the wall, he managed to gather a few of the tribes. The Hornfoot, the Nightrunners and Cave Dwellers had all joined him. But that wasn't enough he needed more men if he wanted to take the wall and get to the other side. That was why they made camp near the largest ice river. He had made contact with the chiefs of the Ice-river clans. He would duel the strongest of them today. Victory solidified them under his rule, defeat-there was only death in defeat.

As usual he entered the tent of their residents seer to see her panting and disheveled. His wife sat behind her sister, helping her sit up. A chilling shock traveled up his spine as she turned her ice blue eyes on him. You never got to them, matter how many times you'd seen them. He could feel the chill of winter radiating from them. Blessed by the Gods they said.

"Mance." Her voice was hoarse. Dalla and the elder women of the tribe told him that her abilities took a lot of energy.

"Val, Dalla tells me you've seen something I should know about."

She gulped down some water, "Yes, the east, there's something in the east."

Mance narrowed his eyes in confusion. What business did the Free Folk of Westeros have in the east. The others were coming from beyond the Lands of Always Winter and she spoke of the east.

"What of it?" He asked.

"Do you remember the legends? The ones that spoke of our ancestors voyage to these lands?"

Mance knew them, the version known to the people of Westeros and that of the one knew to his people. A fearful tale if he'd ever heard one.

"Yes, The Night Beast angered by the fall of his bloodline sent foul creatures to cleanse the lands. Winter came to all lands and with it, death. Men fled to all corners of the world and here we are."

Val nodded, "Do you understand now?"

Frustration quickly built up within him. She never spoke clearly. The others were coming from the far north and she was speaking of old knowledge from-.

His head snapped up. Fear deep within his eyes, "You're not saying-from the east as well?"

Val nodded weakly.

"When?" His could feel the impossibility of survival, hopelessness.

"I do not know. It was not clear. I only saw a beast made of darkness. The most terrifying thing i've ever seen. I...I-.

Mance watched as the toughest woman he knew freeze in fear. Only when Dalla wrapped her arms around her did she move again.

"I believe that's enough for today, Mance. Val needs her rest."

Mance nodded. If there was a time to get things moving, it was now. He could let his wife, his son, his people, he couldn't let them die without a fight. Grabbing his sword, he made his way to the open valley where he would duel the Ice-river chief.

"Skoppi!" His voiced boomed, echoed across the frozen valley.

As expected men and women covered in furs appeared all around him. Their weapons were raised but he knew they would not attack. This was between him and Skoppi. Speaking of the chief, the small man came walking from a cavern under a hill.

Despite his stature, Skoppi was a dangerous man. A shadowcat pelt hung from his head. A slightly oversized spear with an obsidian head hung loosely in his grip. Rare, but not as rare as most thought. Blood red paint-or blood-covered his face. A crooked smirk that bothered Mance was shot his way.

"Ye' came? Hmm death's a wish uh yours. So be it." Like many, his common tongue was broken.

Mance ignored his not so subtle threat. Dragging his blade from its shaggy goat skin sheath he pointed it at Skoppi.

"There is no more time for games. I cannot afford to waste another second. Today you join me or you die."

"At's a mighty tall threat." Grinning, showing his weirwood carved teeth, "Come."

That was all Mance needed. Shooting forward with his sword raised. His hasty charge nearly cost him an eye as he barely avoided the obsidian spearhead. Using the overextension of his opponent, Mance slid inside Skoppi's defence. He lowered his sword hoping to bury it in Skoppi's gut. Unfortunately the small man was faster. Pain splintered across his back. The Ice-river clan chief had slammed the length of his spear into his back. Using his shadowcat like speed, Skoppi flipped his spear. With a lightning fast strike the wildling chief cut a gorge on the back of the would-be uniter of the Free Folk. Pain seared into his mind.

He could feel the wave of blood coming from his wound. Mance ignored the burning pain as he created some space between him and Skoppi. He turned to face the grinning man.

"All talk, huh Tall-Talker?"

He had let the threat of a world ending event get to him-understandably. His fears were justified but if he wanted to save anyone, he would need to be calm and think. Blocking out the pain he focused on the task at hand, staying alive. Mance remained silent as they circled each other.

" _Skoppi uses his size to his advantage. He's fast and agile. So speed is not a choice. Brute strength won't work, he'll dodge and skewer me. Deception it is."_

Sliding his feet across the icy ground, Mance appeared to be moving sluggishly. Skoppi grinned, it was the look a predator had when it believed its prey was all but caught. Mance continued his harried movements. Even as he heard the obsidian spearhead scraping against the frozen ground. Looking to his left, he saw his opponent's shadow creeping closer. He waited until he saw Skoppi raise his spear for the killing blow-Strike!

Blood dripped down onto the snow. With hard eyes Mance looked up at Skoppi. Surprisingly the man was still smiling with a sword in his stomach. It was a disturbing thing, a dying man smiling. Skoppi dropped down to his knees, to Mance's face. Skoppi leaned forward.

"Do it, take ma' head. Power, it's what they respek'. Ya' not be soft beyond that wall o' ice."

Without hesitation Mance twisted his blade inside the man. He had learned long ago the way you had to be to survive the true north. Skoppi hadn't need to tell him that he needed to die to command the loyalty of the Ice-river clans. Not all of the leaders needed to die. For some held the loyalty of their people but some only cared about power.

He turned to the spectating Free Folk with his bloody sword raised high. A word needed not be said. His actions said it all. One by one they came closer but he had no fear. The largest of them, a man that stood easily above six heads. He wore a snow bear pelt across his back, along with a massive crude stone hammer.

"I am Rotvar, our strength is yours, Tall-Talker. So long as you remain strong. We do not follow the weak."

Mance nodded. He grimaced as the pain in his back exploded. It was not a moment later before he fell into darkness.

* * *

 **That chapter is done. You're starting to see what else is happening in the world from many viewpoints. As the story goes on you'll start to see less and less of other viewpoints and more of Robb and Owain. I just use others at the moment to set up the storylines. Now I have a vital question (so please answer). What do you guys think of OC/OC pairings? Respond in the review section, if you would. Until next time, LKnight out.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12: Arrival of the Storm**

 **A recent reviewer, told me that my OC's suck. I can understand that sentiment. Though they've only been around for three chapters. I like to get my story going in order to flesh out my characters, original and borrowed. I ask you all to be patient and watch things unfold. Also as you may have noticed more fantasy being introduced. I will be adding more supernatural things as the story goes on, anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Owain**

* * *

 _Shivering Sea, 299 AC_

Owain Stark, second born son of King Eddard I Stark, stood at the bow of his uncle's ship, the _Iron Asha_. The massive three decked war galley was the tied for the largest flagship in the North, only rivaled by the _Tonnthain,_ old tongue for wave splitter, the flagship of the White Fleet.

The chilling winds of the Shivering Sea brushed against his bare chest. He Embraced the cold, taking it into him. The cold reminded him of his home. His shimmering eyes flickered north. He had left his home once more. At least he got to see his brother married. The smiles of Robb and Wynafryd were ingrained in his head. Robb would need that happiness in the coming times, dark times. His thoughts were interrupted when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of boots hitting the boat deck. He turned and saw his faithful companions. Conno, Arlan and Li decked in furs, walked towards him with worried looks on their faces. He knew what they were thinking. They needed clear minds for the journey ahead of them.

"You've been out here a long time. It's freezing out here." Arlan said coming to stand next to him.

"You know the cold doesn't bother me."

"Neither does the heat but doesn't mean you're immune to fire."

Owain turned towards his closest friend. Arlan had spent many nights-hot and cold-with him during the campaigns of the brotherhood and never worried about him in such a way.

"What did Aly say to you?"

Arlan's face scrunched in shock but he quickly shaped it back into a calm facade. Owain smirked at that. Arlan knew he couldn't lie to him.

"She's worried about you. You were gone for four years and you only stayed for half a year. The way you acted before we left didn't help."

Owain raised an eyebrow, "When did you start talking to Aly so much?"

Arlan turned his head to hide his cherry tinted cheeks. Owain saw it nonetheless. It gave him an odd feeling. His closest friend, his brother-in-arms, liked his sister. He knew his sister was of age to marry, as was he, but to him she was just his sister, his twin. _I'll never let her go,_ he thought to himself.

But who was he to talk? He and Brielle had always been close. Other then Alysanne, Brielle was the only girl he could relate to. She was a warrior, she was a believer of the Old Gods, and most of all, she was caring. She cared for every living thing but knew what held value and what didn't.

"Just remember, O, the world isn't on your shoulders." Arlan placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before walking back into the cabin.

"He's right, Owain. We are many, a single pillar can't hold the weight of the world alone." Conno's voiced boomed even out in the expanse of the sea.

Li spoke his own words of advice before following after Arlan and Conno. The second prince of the North continued working through his thoughts. His friend's words echoed, they were very similar to what his mother and father told him when he was a child. He chuckled as he thought back to his child self, a hero he was, or so he thought. There wasn't anyone or anything that he didn't try to save. Though he still was one to save people. The only difference was now he knew who deserved to be saved and who didn't. The Gods guided his judgment.

Once again his thoughts were interrupted, this time by his uncle. His analyzed the feared Warden of the Howling Coast as he walked towards him. His black attire made him fearsome looking enough, the fur of a black bear if he remembered correct. He heard the tales of his uncle hunting down wildlings or any enemy in the north. Owain knew he was a man to be feared. He pitied any man that became an enemy of his family. Three of the world's best warriors, who happened to be his uncles, stood valiantly with House Stark.

"That's some group of friends you have." Benjen said standing next to him.

"Aye, they are quite the friends to have."

"You and Robb have something your father never seemed to have." Owain noticed the nostalgic look that overcame his uncle's face.

"What might that be, uncle?"

"Charisma, people naturally cling to you and your brother. Your uncle Brandon was the same. I'm not saying your father can't inspire men to follow him but you three...it comes natural. You don't have to say or do much, people just want to follow you."

Owain contemplated his uncle's words. He heard stories of his uncle Brandon, the _wild wolf_ they called him. He could see men and women flocking to his uncle, same with Robb but him, no. Being a leader wasn't for him.

"Captain says a storm is coming. You should head inside your cabin." His uncle told him peering out at the sea.

The _Hunter_ , honorably dubbed by the smallfolk of the north began walking away before stopping halfway. He looked back at his nephew with a serious expression.

"Remember, you're a Stark. Just because of your name, people will look to you for guidance one day. As a Stark, it will be your duty to guide them, remember that. I tried to run from that responsibility and so did Lyanna."

A lump formed in his throat. His uncle's words ominously hung in the air, like a blood moon in the night sky. It wasn't often that his father or his uncle spoke of his deceased aunt. But what was his uncle trying to tell him. A bit of frustration rose up within him. He had never shirked any responsibilities put upon him, even as a child. He was nothing like his aunt. He would not forsake his own family for his singular needs.

Sighing, he turned to go to his cabin as he felt a drop of water hit his face. He turned back towards the sea. His eyes widened, a white fog had covered the area around them. Maybe he was lost in his thoughts longer than he thought. Nonetheless something about the fog wasn't right. The rain quickly became torental like.

"Uncle Benjen was-." His voice was trapped in his throat as the shipped began rocking.

His eyes searched the area around him in panic. He wasn't on the _Iron Asha_ anymore. _Another vision_ , he sighed. Men ran around him in panic as the ship violently shifted back and forth between the waves. Rain beat down on the rocking ship. Fierce winds aided in the chaos, thrashing against the sides of the ship. All around he could see hundreds of other ships suffering the same fate.

" _Wherever I am, Whenever I am, the Gods must be raging."_ Owain thought looking up at the cloudy sky.

" _Magnar Eldric." A man who eerily reminded him of his old master came up to him in panic, "We have been knocked off course. What are your orders?"_

"Magnar Eldric?"Owain was once again seeing through the eyes of another.

Owain figured he was just a spectator, just as the last time. He had no choice but to watch these certain memories of this Eldric _._

* * *

 _Eldric looked out towards the storm. His eyes were special, he peered deep into the chaos, behind the clouds, the rain. He saw the darkness that conjured the mixture of water, wind and lightning. This darkness had chosen to take no form but he knew what is was._

" _Tudaim Sgaitria." Eldric thought in disgust._

 _A shiver trailed down his spine. The corrupted servants of his brother. He knew the might of the shade. Their strength was something he was not ready for. His pregnant wife was on the ship and many other families on the other ships. In such dark times he could not afford to make mistakes but he could no longer run either. His brother would not rest until he forced his way onto the throne beyond the stars. That meant he needed more blood of the elders of the higher realm. Aila had already fallen. If only she would've listened, he lamented. The remaining elder bloodlines had sent their single best warriors to end his younger brother, they would all fall. He saw it. Ahor was coming for him and his family, the union of two of, if not the strongest, oldest bloodlines on earth. Hopefully his Uncle Garth would be of some assistance._

" _Tell Mandus to find the nearest landmass!"_

 _Eldric left to prepare himself. He opened the door to his cabin. Sitting on the bed was his pregnant wife. Her flowing black hair cradled her heart shaped face. The moonlight reflected beautifully off of her light brown skin. He looked into her knowing blue crystalline eyes, the essence of the sea coursed through them. One of the last two Fisher Queens._

" _You will die, my love. Do not try to face those foul creatures. You are destined for so much more than a worthless death. I can't, we can't live without you." She said rubbing her swollen stomach._

 _Tears were now freely flowing from his wife's face. Eldric moved closer, hugging his wife._

" _I cannot run anymore, Solasi. My brother will not stop. The fleet will continue on westwards and you will seek out my uncle, Garth the Greenhand they call him."_

" _No-." She barked, the fight rising within her but Eldric would have none of it._

 _He gripped her tightly, but not enough to harm her or their child in her belly. He looked deeply into her eyes. His shimmering eyes met hers._

" _Mera! I will not let you or-." A tall muscular man with black hair and gray eyes opened the door._

" _Apologies Eldric, but Mandus says we will reach landfall in a matter of minutes."_

" _Never one for manners, Aethon." Eldric said with a bit of humor._

" _Never have been, why start in the face of death. I'll gather the others."_

 _Eldric alone with his wife once more knew it was time to say his goodbye. If it was the last, he did not know._

" _Mera, my love. My world was dull, even among an empire of gems. That is until the day I met you. Solasi. I must say goodbye, for now. Forever my love."_

" _My love forever." She smiled sadly._

 _He kissed her and she returned it with passion. They broke loose and Eldric kissed her bursting stomach. He gave her one last smile._

" _Don't forget about me, Solasi."_

 _Mera smiled despite her tears, "Never, my Faloean."_

 _Eldric grabbed his blade. He dared not look back in fear of staying with his wife and unborn child. Soon he met with his generals and closest friends. Aethon, his oldest friend, a tall man riddled with wiry muscle folded many times like the dense but light blades of the empire. But strength of body was not his greatest asset, but strength of mind. Orom, a short man by any standard but deadly nonetheless. A man that clung to the shadows like a babe to a breast. Royce, a stern but intelligent man, his blade was always welcomed. Mandus, his seafaring commander, not many knew the seas like him. Ran, the older brother of his wife. Last was Merrick, the last of the Barba bloodline._

" _I want you all to stay with Mera." Eldric told them._

" _No." Aethon stated calmly, "We stand with you."_

" _Aethon-."_

" _Look, we may not have your heaven sent eyes but we can fight and we will fight for our Magnar."_

" _Aye!" The other men chorused._

 _Eldric sighed, "I expected this from you, old friend. Orom, Royce, Mandus, Ran, Merrick, take my wife away from here. I-we will do our best to hold them back."_

 _The five men solemnly nodded. They never had the disobedience to disobey a direct order from their leader. Aethon was different, he had been close to Eldric his entire life._

 _Eldric watched with hard eyes as his sailboat drifted from the rest of the fleet. He looked to Aethon. There was no other man he would rather have with him. The best man and warrior he knew. There wasn't a sharper mind and blade in the world._

 _Soon the ship had stopped near a small island. Eldric and Aethon looked on as their brethren disappeared into the fog. Eldric looked up seeing the darkness falling onto the island. Gripping his pale blade he looked to Aethon raising his dual blades. It still surprised him to see his blooded brother so calm in the face of death._

" _May our ancestors be with you, fal brathir."_

" _As with you, fal brathir. In the next life."_

 _The ground blackened with death as the shadows moved closer. A faint shape could be made out. A face, such a horrible face._

" _Your time is done." The shadows launched forward at a speed impossible for any man to follow._

* * *

"Owain, wake up!" The northern prince rose with a heavy breath. Looking around he realized he was seeing through his own eyes once more.

Surrounding him were his uncle, Li and a man he did not know, a Braavosi by the looks. He knew he wasn't on the ship anymore, seeing the exotic paintings on the walls around him. Looking himself over he found that he had been stripped down to his small clothes.

"What-." Owain stopped his sentence. An intense burning sensation washed over his insides as the air inside him seemed to get heavier. With every attempt to speak, the burning became greater as if his words were fans to flames.

"Don't, get your rest, nephew." His uncle told him, "I guess you want to know where we are."

Owain only nodded, not daring to incur the blaze within his chest. He watched his uncle dismiss the Braavosi. Once the man was out of the room he turned back to him.

"Well, you've been unconscious for nearly a fortnight. You gave us quite the scare. We got trapped in what the locals call the worst storm in centuries. Li here, he took care of you until the storm passed and we arrived at Braavos. As to your condition, I don't exactly know. Something happened to you that night on the ship. I don't know what, your eyes... your eyes were glowing, Owain. By the Gods, they were glowing."

Owain could hear the confusion in his uncle's voice. Much like his father when Lord Reed told him of the power he held. It would not do well for either of their quests if his uncle was confused.

Ignoring the flaring inferno within his chest he spoke, "Arlan and Conno will explain."

He instantly regretted his decision to speak as the pain exploded. His world was enveloped in darkness once again.

* * *

 **Eddard**

The King in the North looked out at his lands. Many failed to see the beauty of the North. Savage, barren, cold, harsh. In truth, it was all those things but it was so much more than the people of Westeros knew. Somehow his people found a way to embrace the savageness of the North. Accept the cold and the harshness and make the barren lands fruitful. That was the difference between northmen and the rest of the Westerosi, sans the Dornish. They too made their home in difficult lands.

Like the Dornish, the lands of winter was won in blood. He couldn't stop himself from thinking back on the day that magic became an actuality to him. The Field of Blood, Robert called it. As no man on the field that day from the opposing side lived to tell the tale of the hungry earth. Though there were whispers of a sorcerer in the north. A man that controlled the earth. It was a good thing that day birthed a fear that would live for generations. Till this day it still amazed him yet a tendril of fear followed that amazement. There were nearly twenty thousand men and not a single body was left to take back to their families.

Now the waters around Moat Cailin ran red with the blood of the north's enemies. Many traveled to the eight-sided fortress to see the bloody water for themselves. Though after several disappearances Ned was forced to stop the visits. He didn't know what exactly happened but he confided in Luwin. The First Healer of the North suggested the magic was still active and the land had become greedy and craved blood. Ned dismissed it but it could be a possibility, magic was a fickle thing after all.

He shook his mind from the thoughts of magic and onto flesh. He was soon to leave and head to the conclave of kings, the next morning in fact. Many of his men were worried for his safety. Though Rhaegar knew some suspicion was deserved, he assured that the flames had cleansed him of any ill will. Ned scoffed, from what he heard about the red god, it did anything but cleanse. If anything should be tried, Trevyr and Jonos would be more than enough for any white knight.

"What's on your mind, my love?"

All his thoughts and worries disappeared. He felt slender arms wrap around his waist. Like that fateful day at Harrenhal, he was enveloped in a flurry of feelings. He turned and looked his wife in the eyes.

"Only my love for you."

"Who would've thought that shy Ned Stark was such a sweet talker." Ashara joked as her husband embraced her.

"You made me a better man, Ash. I don't know what I would do without you."

"And there is the man I know and love." She giggled.

Ned welcomed the kiss of his wife. His hands explored her body. He could fill his blood pumping. Maybe another Stark would be conceived today, he thought. Giving his wife a subtle nudge towards their bed, he got an answer as she began backpedaling. It was a good thing that he had not got dressed yet. His strong hands slid the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders. Ashara released a soft moan as Ned planted tender kisses on her bare skin. The sound of his wife's pleasure awoke a primal feeling within him. He gently lifted her off her feet with the intention of laying her on the bed but a knock at their door stopped that. A feral growl erupted from the Stark king's throat.

"What is it?"

"A raven has arrived, your grace." He recognized the voice of his captain of household guard, Jory Cassel.

Eddard growled one last time before looking down at his queen.

"Wait for me, my love."

"Until the end of time."

He quickly left the room in fear of shirking his duties in favor for a night of passion with his wife. He found Jory standing outside his door. The younger man handed him a letter. Looking down at the seal he gazed into the guard's eyes.

"Assemble the council."

* * *

The night had been stressful. More problems had shown themselves, old and new. The timing was horrible. He was to leave for the conclave soon and Benjen was gone. Nearly lost in a storm, if the letter read right. Robb would not be alone in his rule of Winterfell during his absence. He would have his mother, even Robert would be around to help, not to mention the High Council. Yes, Robb would be well prepared for his rule. He could drop his worries and focus on the task at hand. Rhaegar was up to something, he would find out what. Lord Wyman had shadows in the south who brought word of the Targaryen king's secret. He heard of the burnings, so called cleansing of the soul. The whispers of usurping that floating around the exiled prince in the east. Many things that Rhaegar did not want the world to know.

His council had just finished their last meet before his departure.

"Quit your worrying, Ned. Your boy will be in great hands." Robert said laying a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Lord Baratheon is right, your grace. My good-son is in good hands. The queen and the council will not let him fail."

Eddard nodded at his closest friend and Overseer. They were two of the best men he knew. He had no doubt his kingdom would be in good hands.

"I'm counting on you two. My family is in your hands."

The two men nodded and Eddard left them to depart. His goodbyes had been said prior to the council meeting. The Chief Commander and his fellow Winterguard quickly matched the pace of their king. Soon they were joined by Martyn and his small detachment of Winter Wolves.

Eddard's eyes remained forward as they rode away, towards White Harbor. He knew his family would be safe on the hands of Ser Wylis and Robert.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 13: Prophecies Arise**

 **Sorry for the long wait guys but my life is as hectic as it gets. I don't know when I'll have the time to write or when I'll feel like it but I'll try. I really don't have much to say, I hope you guys enjoy this.**

* * *

 **Robb**

* * *

 _Winterfell, 299 AC_

His first week as the ruling Stark in Winterfell had gone smoothly. A few interesting things had happened. First he had dreamed of direwolves in the Godswood and the next day while playing with Voria and Rickard, they found three direwolf pups huddled around their dead mother in the exact same place he dreamed of. It had shaken him at first but then he remembered what Owain had said about the Gods awakening. They surely had to be. Now he and his youngest siblings had direwolf companions. His pup, Grey Wind, had fur akin to steel gray and piercing yellow eyes. Voria's pup, which she proudly named Adrani, after a legendary spearwife, was coal black with streaks of ginger red littering her body. Rickard's female wolf, Skadi, was much like him, her fur being the same ice white as Rickard's hair. The pups had not left their sides in the four days they had them.

With everything going on he wished he had more time to do things he liked, such as teaching Grey Wind, training with either of his uncles or etching runes. But he had a duty and he would not fail his father's trust. That was the reason why he sat the King's Solar.

His mother, Ser Wylis and his Uncle Robert, sat in front of him. Along with Halys Lightfoot and Eddard Karstark standing guard behind him with Grey Wind at his feet.

"Do we know the ones raiding our caravans?"

Ser Wylis shook his head, "Only that they bear a pale maiden on their standard."

Robb could see the nervous looks on the faces of the three adults. There was something they were not telling him and he would not have that, his father wouldn't.

"What are you not telling me?" He didn't fail to notice the brief shared look of his mother and Ser Wylis.

"Why don't we tell him?" Robert asked.

"He's right, Ser Wylis." Ashara added in.

The Manderly Overseer sighed in defeat, "These people, whoever they are, are not new to us. Long ago before the war, bandits bearing the same standard harassed forces of the north."

"And we don't know who these people are?" Robb asked incredulously.

"No, they have a knack of disappearing into the night. There is one man who survived multiple attacks by them."

"Who might this man be, my lord?"

"Dorren Umber, my prince. As per the agreement made by your grandfather the Umbers control the security force that protect our goods. Dorren Umber is quite a man, never missing a shipment."

Robb hummed in thought, "I would like to meet his man."

"It will be done."

Robb nodded, "If I'm needed, I will be in my room."

He was young but right now he had the responsibility of an entire land. While his father was gone, the people of the north counted in him. He would not let the stress get to him, after all he would be king one day. Runes would calm his mind, they took him back to his days at Runestone. Even though Robar and Waymar were older they still let him tag along on their adventures. He learned a lot from his stay with the Royces, most notably the knowledge of runes. There was still so much he did not know. Much was lost from the old times. Even his foster father, Lord Yohn, was lost on some of the runic language. When he returned from his fostering he requested that his father let him inspect the runes engraved in the walls of Winterhold. He was amazed at what little he could decipher. Runes of preservation and protection lined most walls. Then there were ones he had never heard, a mystery, they seemed older than time itself.

"Prince Robb, back again I see." Mikken, Winterfell's blacksmith, greeted the young prince.

"Is it ready? He asked foregoing formalities.

Mikken smiled at his giddiness. The old blacksmith walked away to get whatever Robb had requested. Mikken came walking back in with a mid-sized object wrapped in a soft gray fabric.

Robb eagerly, yet respectfully took the parcel from the older man's hands. Sitting it down on the small wooden table he carefully unwrapped it, revealing a pair of vambraces. His crystal blue eyes shimmered as he saw the snarling wolf's head surrounded by runes on the topside of the steel vambraces. The runes were etched in bronze giving a nice contrast to the light filled silver. The vambraces were the first arrival of a full set of armor that was being given to him as a wedding gift from his foster father. Lord Yohn had engraved the runes himself.

"Quite a gift, my prince." The blacksmith whistled at the sight of the vambraces. Grey Wind yipped in agreement.

Robb could only nod as he walked away with his bracers in hand. As he walked across the courtyard he swore he heard a voice as the wind blew. _Maybe I'm imagining things_ , he thought. He spotted Alysanne and Brielle, with Voria and Adrani in tow. Voria's face lit up as she sped towards her older brother. Adrani did the same, tackling Grey Wind to the ground.

Holding his bracers above his head, he braced himself as she crashed into him. Alysanne and Brielle were standing behind them smiling at the younger Stark girl's enthusiasm. His little sister, along with the rest of his siblings could not be placed into any single category for what a person should be. Voria was usually a lady worthy of northern nobility but much like their mother, she had a playful, yet fiery side. Alysanne was the slightly rebellious one. She did what she felt was right despite what others thought or wanted of her.

"Be careful, little one. You might hurt yourself." Robb said grinning at his youngest sister.

"I'm stronger than that, big brother. You're the one that might get hurt." She fired back.

"Now, now, no need for a contest of strength. We all know Voria Shadowfoot is the mightiest of us all." Alysanne joined in with a chuckle.

Robb and Brielle joined, which only caused Voria to frown, but it quickly turned into a smirk. Knowing his sister's attitude, he felt the need to make amends and get away. Bending down, he looked into his sister's eyes.

"You're right, Voria. When I become king, you can join the Winter Wolves." Voria's eyes widened in excitement.

"Really?" She beamed.

"Of course, but you have to make sure you train really hard but most of all you have to listen to mother and father. If father says you are to marry when you're older, you will do so. If you are to be a wandering adventurer, then you will be free."

Voria's face dropped but it quickly brightened up once again. She said nothing more before turning and running off to do gods know what.

"You know you shouldn't have done that." Alysanne said in a slight scolding tone.

"Did father not promise you something similar when you were young?"

Robb only smiled when his sister scoffed and turned a little red. Brielle looked a little confused at the comment he made. For the first time since the arrival of the Baratheon family Robb actually looked at the eldest Baratheon daughter. Her golden brown skin seem to drink the sunlight around her. Gleaming blue eyes stared at him. In his trance he saw the specks of sea green floating in her eyes. Overall she was glowing with unnatural light, a goddess on earth. Long black hair, tied in a ponytail that casually hung to the small of her back. Her curvaceous body was not one a girl of ten and six should have. Her breast were full and her long legs were toned and muscled under her britches. A brief rise of guilt shook him from the shameful thoughts. He was a married man, Wynafryd was the only woman for him. He pushed the guilt down and continued with the conversation.

"Uh...um, when we were children, Aly always did the opposite of what our parents told her. Eventually our father-."

"Promised that as long as I listened I would grow up to be the woman I wanted to be, not expected."

"Your father and my father are similar. My father and mother never forced me to have typical role. Alysanne and I are much alike."

Robb only smiled. His sister had found a true friend in Brielle. It was only right as Owain was such good friends with Arlan. He said his goodbyes and began walking back to his room, Grey Wind casually trotted behind him. Upon arriving to his room, he found Wynafryd sleeping in their bed. He found that odd, usually she was out with his mother learning everything she could from the Queen in the North. For her to be in their room in the middle of the day was worrying. Placing his gift down, he went over to his sleeping wife. She began stirring, awakened by his mere presence. She smiled a great smile as her piercing blue eyes landed on Robb.

The rising sense of guilt returned and began spreading through him. Not moments before had he been looking at another woman. Already he was failing as a husband, his father would be ashamed.

"My love, what are you doing here?" She asked.

"I needed to get away from everything for a while. What are you doing back so early?"

Wynafryd looked away and instantly Robb was worried. He had known her his entire life and such he had come to know her very well. Her tale was such an obvious one, she never was a good liar.

"Wynnie." He began warningly, "What is it?"

"I haven't been feeling well, Robb. Your mother was kind enough to relieve me of my duties." She snapped.

Robb was slightly taken aback by her sudden attitude change. Wynafryd was a kind soul, cunning but kind. She never released a single hint of anger towards anybody, let alone him. He could see the immediate regret written on her face.

"I'm sorry, Robb. I don't know what's gotten into me." One tear fell, then two, and finally a river.

Wynafryd threw her face into Robb's shoulder. Taking her into arms, he did his best to console her. A million thoughts raced through his mind. Eventually the sobs stopped. She had cried herself back to sleep. Gently laying her head down, he left, heading towards the training yard. He needed to release some stress. Halys and Eddard trailed right behind him.

* * *

A grunt forced itself from his throat. His dulled, practice blade dug into the neck of the training dummy. A burning pain flared through his arms as he lifted the longsword above his head. In one swift movement, the dummy's head rolled from its shoulders.

"That's five in one day. How many more will suffer the wrath of the Young Wolf?"

Robb turned with a smirk. His mentor and uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne stood with a smile of his own.

"Many more, uncle." Robb said before placing another wooden dummy in front of him.

Three more training dummies fell to his blade before the exhaustion took hold but he couldn't stop. The frustration, the worry, the responsibility, it all fueled his swings. He kept swinging, ignoring the pain until a hand grabbed his wrist.

"That's enough, Robb." Ser Arthur had returned to his usual somber self. His dark eyes leered into Robb's own blue.

The look on his face instantly took him back to the days of his training with the aging knight. The days where his frustrations of being the crown prince got to him, when his cried because his father was too busy to train with him. Ser Arthur released his hand. Robb dropped the sword before going to sit against a pillar. He watched the other men train, the leaves falling from the towering tree in the corner of the training yard, small things. It was things such as that, that he could no longer enjoy.

"Is the life of a king, Uncle? Headaches from petty squabbles, too busy to spend time with my family?"

Arthur went and stood in front of his nephew, "Aye, it is, but that is all it will be. You will not just be a king but a father, a husband. The sacrifices you make as king will ensure the safety of not only your family but your people. The life of a king is more than just petty squabbles and being busy. Remember, you are Robb Stark the man, the same as Robb Stark the prince.

Robb looked up with thankful eyes. His uncle was right, it was his life to live, though he would not let selfish desires brand him a bad king. Grabbing his uncle's outstretched hand he stood up.

"Thank you, uncle. Now I must go live my life."

Robb practically ran back to his chambers. Wynafryd sat down in front of her mirror. Robb froze as she looked up seeing him in the mirror.

"Robb I-."

"Wynafryd I-."

They both blushed at their rushed dialogue. Moving closer, he took a knee next to her. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. A smirk found its way onto his face when she blushed at the sudden contact. He loved that about her, a certain innocence she had, surprising as to who her grandfather was.

"You go first, sweetheart." He told her.

Robb felt her hand tighten around his as she took a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant, Robb."

* * *

 **Viserys**

 _Pentos, 299 AC_

The exiled prince stood on his balcony, overlooking the walled Free City. In his arms was his newest son, born not but two moons ago. Aerys, he was named, after his late father. The people of Westeros may have seen his father as Aerys _The Mad,_ but he knew him better, the real King Aerys, _The Dragon_. His father was a real dragon, so was he, his father made sure of that. It was time for the real dragons to rule once more.

"You see that, our ancestors once ruled and roamed all those lands."

Baby Aerys followed his father's finger, looking east. The sun shined down on the lands of Essos. Viserys couldn't help but smile. His brother had unknowingly secured his throne for him, though not the iron throne, he would leave that for his brother. His goal was much grander.

"My brother can have Westeros, the east will be mine. Once the dragonlords were feared, once again they will be."

His smile broadened as he put his son down. In the crib with his son was an object of legend, a petrified dragon egg, dark as the midnight sky with scarlet ripples painted across it. Sitting on his desk was another egg, this one was pale with a gold streak across it. He felt the coarse, yet smooth scales protecting the petrified shell.

"You, my precious, are the hope of the reformed freehold."

Placing the egg down he left to seek out those who would stand at his back as he rose to power. He couldn't help but smile as he pictured himself atop a great golden dragon, soaring through the skies. The world bowed below him. Oceans parted at the flaps of his dragon's wings. He could feel it, the power. The world would know the dragon's wrath once more.

Before his peak, there must first be a rise. One thing he learned that his father did not. You could not rise alone. That was his father's downfall in the end. He sat alone in a game of shadows. Even the dragonlords of old helped each other. He had found his circle, a small one but a support caste nonetheless.

His good-father, Magister Ordello of Pentos. A wise man when it came to trade. The man had accumulated a treasury large enough to survive at least three generations. Financial support was where his usefulness ended.

Then there was, Asalyr and his younger sister, Taenys. The two were an odd pair to say the least. Born of Valyrian descent, Asalyr was vague as to their origins and with Taenys being a mute, the information would stay a mystery. Both siblings had gold-not blonde-but gold hair and glittering amethyst eyes. Asalyr was a shrewd man, he was the man behind most of if not all of Viserys' strategic plans. No warrior he was, but a man of knowledge. The blood and gore was where Taenys fit in. She needed no words, her eyes said it all.

Then there was his army. He had paid Tyzonn and his Bright Banners enough money to secure a year long contract. The former Bearded Priest was more lustful than you think a religious man would be but seeing as the thing he worshipped was a tool of war, it wasn't as farfetched as first thought.

The time for his conquest to begin was near. He signaled for the wet nurse to attend to his son before making his way to his war chambers. He could barely keep the elation within as walked through the doors. All eyes were on him as he made his presence known.

"Ah, nice of you to join us, your grace." His good-father grinned greedily.

"Dragon King." Tyzon greeted gruffly.

Viserys smirked at the title. He had no qualms with it, it was a perfect fit.

"King Viserys, we welcome your arrival. We have much to discuss." Asalyr said waving him over.

Taking his seat Viserys looked at the people around him. These were people that would sit with him at the top of the world. He would not forget them when he ascended to his rightful place as emperor.

"What news do we have of our allies in the other Free Cities?" He asked.

"To start, I'll tell you Braavos, Qohor and Volantis are far from our reach...at the moment. Magister Rollo says Myr is ripe for the taking. We need only move on it. The same for Tyrosh, Trylan's seeds of descent have blossomed. By the end of our campaign in Myr, Tyrosh will have torn itself apart. The Lorathi, Lysene and Norvoshi still need some convincing but do not worry, my king. I have confidence our allies there will see the truth."

"What of my sister and her savage husband?" Viserys asked thinking of the massive Dothraki horde.

"According my sources, they've left Vaes Dothrak. Interestingly your unborn nephew is prophesied as the _stallion who mounts the world._ The fated leader of all Dothraki."

Viserys snorted, "Prophecies are nothing but old words of fools who lived in stories rather than reality."

"I would not dismiss such things so quickly, your grace. After all, it was a prophecy that saved your family from the doom."

"And what saved yours?"

Asalyr smiled the same smile he always did when asked about his family. Viserys grumbled at the man's insistence to keep his lineage in the shadows. There was something about him that made him shiver, almost as if he wanted to bow to the man. Though he would never, a king never bowed, not a dragon king.

"The wind, my king, the wind." The golden haired man smiled crookedly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14: You shall see**

* * *

 **I am extremely sorry for the long wait but life has been hectic. I don't when I'll get back to writing regularly but I had to get this out. To the reviewer who said speech is too modern, I hear you. That was my biggest fear in writing in this fandom. I'll do my best to improve upon that. If there is anyone that would like to help with that, I would gladly accept it.**

* * *

 **Owain**

 _Shivering Sea, 299 AC_

It had been three days since he departed from his uncle, three days sailing east. His uncle had been told of his personal quest by his father before they left the north. Li had remained with his Uncle Benjen to help with his search for Lady Asha. So far they had no leads on her whereabouts sans the information that Lord Manderly gathered. He, Arlan and Conno were traveling east. All at the behest of a mysterious man in his dreams. Thinking back he couldn't help but wonder as to who or what the man was. Basked in a veil of light but wrapped in darkness, his features blocked from vision. His words rung in his ears.

" _You must go east, east to the sea that once was."_

" _The sea that once was?"_ He thought to himself, "What could cause an entire sea to be no more?"

"Heat. Unnatural heat."

He turned to see Arlan and Conno. Arlan had been the one to speak. Still wrapped in his furs, the light skinned Baratheon heir stood next to his closest friend. The winds of the Shivering Sea had been unforgivable, striking at their bones. Even Owain himself had felt the sting of the cold from time to time.

"Why have I never learned of such an event happening? I don't recall Maester Luwin informing my siblings and I of such a thing."

"You were taught of Westeros. This is Essos." Conno spoke, "I know the sea you speak of."

"Then you must tell me." Owain pressed, desperate to know of his destination.

He coughed, ignoring the pain in his chest. He was sick, for the second time in his life. It was not a regular sickness, he knew, but exactly what it was, he did not.

"There was once a great body of water that sat within Essos, the Silver Sea. Once the rulers, the queens of water perished, the sea began to dry up. All that is left now are three lakes scattered across the land that was once the sea."

"Queens of water?" Owain questioned. He felt an odd sense of connection at the mention of the female rulers.

"Not much is known of them. It is said that they were connected to the gods, even more so than the gemstone rulers themselves. It is said they disappeared just before the ancient darkness came."

"The gods want me there for a reason, I will not falter on this path."

* * *

They had arrived at the last surviving Sarnori city, Saath. It had taken a little over two weeks by sea. The small port city was largely busy. Ships of many sizes and builds were. Swan ships from the Summer Isles, cogs from Oldtown, whalers and he even saw a few Ironborn longships.

"We will rest here for the night. Come first light, we find horses and our search begins." Owain informed his companions.

His battle instincts kicked in. He felt someone stepping closer towards his back. With speed unseen in the norm, he unsheathed his bronze dagger, placing it at the throat of his would be attacker. His blade in his right hand, but his left hand landed on something soft.

"I've never known a boy so young to be so forward."

Owain's eyes widened as he realized he had a woman in his grip. Sheathing his dagger and removing his hand from her breast he stepped back with red covered cheeks. He calmed himself as he felt his private member begin to waken. It would not do well to anger the gods with his carnal desires. With the distance he created, he could clearly see the woman now. She was a woman not much older than himself.

Her pale skin-showing she was not a native of Saath-was hidden underneath a tight fitting spider silk dress, if he had to guess. Average curves popped from the dress. A low dropping neckline showing her ample bosom, accented by the tightness. He could tell she was of some nobility by the jewels she wore. A silver circlet with amber three amber gems sat atop her head. She also had necklace and a bracelet on each arm of the same make. She was no rare beauty but nor was she an average sight. She was pretty enough to force him to fight back his savage desires.

"Apologies, my lady." Owain said with a slight bow of his head.

Owain began his retreat. He saw the look on her face. It was nothing but trouble, that was the last thing he needed. The northern prince didn't want to attract any more attention but fate would not have it. He had only gotten ten paces away before he heard a voice call out to him.

"You, not another step."

Instantly Arlan and Conno protectively stepped in front of him. A group of men, no more than six had done the same with the young woman. He noticed the man who had called out to him. From first glance he could tell he was of westerosi descent. His golden locks and earth green eyes, struck him as familiar but he couldn't place it. He wore a crimson tinted steel breastplate. Engraved on the chest was a gray lion. But it wasn't his hair or his armor that caught his attention but the sword at his hip. A golden roaring lion's head with emerald eyes stood in as the pommel. He couldn't see much more but the pure gold scabbard it rested in.

"I'm not looking for trouble." Owain stated calmly.

"Well you found it, boy." The golden haired man stated coming closer, "You put a blade to the throat of a member of my house, my sister no less."

"I assure you, Ser, continuing on with this is not wise."

"Not wise?" The man questioned with a cocky chuckle, "Do you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I don't." Owain replied dryly. He was not interested in this, he had other things to do.

"We should leave as soon as possible." Arlan whispered in his ear seeing the growing crowd.

Owain scanned the area around them. The droves of people had gathered around the two groups. He heard whispers. Focusing on what was being said, he cursed himself for not just turning and leaving.

"Allow me to inform you. I am Lann Caster, heir to the Brightrock Treasure Company."

"Good for you, Ser. Now I must go."

Owain turned and cut through the crowd. If he would have looked back he would have saw the young woman holding her brother back. Though it was hard not to be seen while traveling with his massive companion, they were good enough to go unnoticed for a good time.

"Should we leave on our search now or rest for the night?" The prince asked his friends.

"I've no need for rest at the moment." Arlan said looking to Conno.

"Nor I."

"Good, we shall get our supplies and be on our way."

The three young men bought horses and supplies. Luckily their search for supplies was uneventful. Once they had everything they needed they were soon out of the city, leaving trouble behind. With Conno's extensive knowledge of Essos and its geography they decided to travel along the Valyrian Road. In actuality it was an aimless journey around the dothraki sea. His destination was somewhere within the dried up sea. He hoped he would feel where he needed to be, a pull of sorts.

* * *

The _Haunted Lands_ were unforgiving. The sun beat down on you, the winds were heated, heat even came from the dense, hardened ground. Though it was nothing new to them. Fighting with the Brotherhood in the disputed lands were far harsher than the conditions they now traveled in. They had been traveling for hours when he felt it, Svnoyi was near. He had sent the Night Owl out days ago while they were still aboard the ship. His feathered companion was sent to scout out the plains and steppes of the Dothraki Sea before they traveled them. Lifting his arm, he waited for the massive bird to land. Svnoyi landed with a shrill screech. Owain rubbed the bird's head, getting a soft hoot from him. He needed to be stationary for what came next. Looking around he saw that night was coming.

"We will make camp here. The hills provide decent cover and shelter."

Camp was set underneath a looming hill. Darkness soon rolled across the lands like the winter snows of the north. A small fire was lit to illuminate the small camp. A fire any larger would attract unwanted attention. Despite its conditions, many chose to travel through the sea of grass.

Placing a hand on Svnoyi's head, Owain focused, ignoring the outside world. He felt himself be pulled into the owl's head. It was as if he was the wind moving freely through the sky. It was a weird feeling, at first. He learned to get used to it.

He felt himself stiffened, a bright light followed. Then the images started flooding in. He saw everything that Svnoyi saw. The dry plains of the Dothraki Sea. The ice cold waters of the Shivering Sea. His mind strained as he sifted through days of memories. After searching through hundreds of memories nothing significant turned up. Then he saw it, threats from the east and the north. A dothraki horde was raging from the east and a group of knights from the north, crimson knights.

The winds were whipping again. He followed the sound and once again he was in the present time. He took deep breaths to readjust to being back in reality. Looking around he saw Arlan, Conno and even Svnoyi looking at him.

"We have a few problems." He said sitting up.

After informing his companions of the incoming danger they quickly packed up camp and continued moving along the foreign road.

Owain ignored the urge to shiver as they traveled into grassier lands. There was something otherworldly about the grass. It was like there was something living in the grass, like it was alive with light, pale light. There was a tingle in the back of his mind, like he was being warned.

Looking around he saw nothing, he heard nothing. He knew what he would have to do. Closing his eyes he reached deep into his being, searching for the gift he was given by the gods themselves. He could feel the life of nature. It was an odd sensation to feel the world around you on such a personal level. His mind stretched far and wide, though he had his limits. His mentor, the late Lord Reed had told him to never stress the limits of his gifts, less he wanted to be lost in the beyond. His mind wandered the yonder, the spirit lands parallel to the land of living. He wasn't very adept at spirit traveling and as such most, if not everything was not clear to him.

Owain growled in frustration. It was pointless. He wasn't good enough to see clearly. There was something that needed to be done and he couldn't do it. The young prince could feel his anger building.

"Peace, my brother." Conno's massive hand gripped his shoulder.

For some strange reason he felt his anger quickly dissipate at the touch of his friend.

"There is time, we mustn't let our emotions blind us."

"How will it be done if we do not know what is to be done?" Owain questioned.

"We may not have sight of what is to be done, but we have vision. We are not completely blind, we only need to continue forth. Now we must rest, tomorrow is a new day."

Owain nodded. Conno had always been wise. Though it was to be expected, he was tutored by the wisest men of his tribe. Men who had traveled the world in seek of knowledge. Conno had benefitted from such an education, as strong as his body was, his mind matched it.

He would trust in his friends. After all, he was never alone in his dreams.

 _Darkness flooded his vision. Sounds of thunder and rain pounded against his ears. The winds whipped around him, lashing against his skin. Murky forms flashed around him. Everything was so dark. There were sounds of battle, steel striking steel. Grunts of pain and struggle could be heard. But then something reached his ears that would make the strongest of men turn craven. A feral, unnatural screech pierced the darkness. It was then that he saw two beacons of light battling against the surrounding darkness. One was ice-white blue, almost silver. The other was a golden gray. They were faint but still visible._

" _There are too many, Eldric."_

 _The voice came from somewhere inside the darkness._

" _If this is the end, Aethon, then we will die fighting."_

 _Owain realized he wasn't seeing through Eldric's eyes, but his own. Why things had suddenly changed with this certain set of dreams, or visions as some would call them, he did not know. Though it would seem something had changed. As his late mentor always said, 'change is never without consequence'._

 _The young prince flinched as a living shade flew through his body. His body was corporeal. He was there but he was not. He could only watch as the two men battled against the darkness. It appeared odd. At first glance it looked as if the two men were swinging their weapons into an empty darkness but as he focused more he could see the darkness true form._

 _Twisted bodies. Pointed faces. Serrated teeth. A horrible stench of death. All that made up the fallen._

" _Tudaim Sgaitria." He didn't know what it meant but it just flowed from his mouth._

 _Owain could only watch as the darkness began to overwhelm the two men. He knew it would be nothing but he could not just sit and watch. Pulling his own sword from his back he lunged forward. He swung and swung but it was all futile, he was nothing in a world of dreams. Nonetheless he kept swinging. It wasn't until the exhaustion took over did he stop. Falling to his knees, despair began enveloping him._

 _No matter their skill in combat, they were not prepared to fight a supernatural presence. Their swords, although special, were made to combat flesh, not an otherworldly presence._

 _For what felt like hours the darkness held him. Standing, sitting, lying, he didn't know but he was motionless in what seemed to be a lightless, empty void. His eyes searched through the darkness but there was nothing._

" _Open your eyes, Maraga!" Owain snapped his head around looking for the source of the voice._

 _The raspy voice echoed around him but the darkness did not reveal much, only a faint white light in the distance. But he quickly recognized the voice, it belonged to man that told him of the old sea._

" _Who are you? What do you want?" Owain yelled into the void._

" _Open your eyes, Maraga!" The voice repeated._

" _My eyes are open!" He snapped back._

" _Foolish child, you are blind."_

 _Owain had no time to respond. His senses were ambushed. His eyes attacked by a red light, his ears filled with the roaring of waves, heat and cold gripped his skin._

" _You must open open your eyes, Maraga."_

 _That was the last thing Owain heard before all sound left his ears._

* * *

 **Lord Jon Frostburn**

Life was well. Summerhall was coming about nicely. His father had paid for the restoration himself. The ruined walls had either been torn down or built upon, depending on its previous condition. With the amount and quality of builders his father hired, Summerhall would once again stand glorious, maybe even greater before the year was out.

Being a bastard born from an event that led to war, he never thought he would be where he was. Though some things had came to be as he thought they would. Aegon hated him, it was never clear if it was his Stark blood or his bastard status, the crown prince still held ill feelings for him, nonetheless. But they were still brother's.

For some reason, Aegon was coming to his hold and Aemon was coming with him. It was why he made sure everything was up to par. He had been hounding his household the entire morning making sure everything was okay. Standing atop his main walls he saw the procession containing the royal princes. It was not a large one, just his brothers and a massive amount of Targaryen men-at-arms, a few Lannister mixed in. Aegon led on a pearl white horse, Aemon was close behind on a dark stallion.

"My lord, the royal-." Jon held his hand up, stopping his servant.

"I see them, open the gates."

Jon made his descent down to the front of the gate. A sense of anxiousness filled him as the iron gates lifted above his head. Aegon's dry stare and Aemon's arrogant smirk came into view as the gate reached it's peak.

"Brother-." Jon began to say only to be cut off.

"That is Prince Aegon to you, Lord Frostburn."

Aemon sighed, "Hello brother, I see father spared no expense in your insertion as Lord."

The youngest son of Rhaegar Targaryen looked around at the scrambling workers repair, build and whatever else they were commanded to do.

"Aemon, it is good to see you, brother."

Jon hugged his youngest brother. While it wasn't the relationship that he thought brothers should have, it was better than his relationship with Aegon. He suspected the queen was the reason Aemon never fully embraced him. Her whispers of Lannister superiority had been quelled by his father but Jon knew they still wandered into his youngest sibling's ears.

"Is there somewhere we can speak, privately?" Aegon asked, his eyes darting around.

Jon didn't fail to notice the nervousness in his brother's posture. Something was wrong, he had almost never seen his brother break his perfect Targaryen facade.

"Of course" Jon called over a stablehand, "Godrick, see to the horses."

Jon escorted his brothers to his solar. Ser Rolly Flowers and Ser Preston Greenfield, Aegon's and Aemon's sworn swords respectively, stood outside the door. Jon sat behind his desk as he looked at his brothers. There was a hollow silence between them. He saw the two share a look. The pit that had always been in his stomach seem to grow with the silence.

"There was an attempt on my life."

Jon swallowed as Aegon narrowed his eyes, "What, what happened?"

Aegon's eyes softened, to Jon's relief, "Two assassins laid in wait for me in my room. If not for Ser Rolly, I'd be dead."

Jon was shocked. He knew things had been shaky lately but an attempt on the crown prince's life was a very serious matter. But that still did not explain why his brothers were there.

"That is not all, there is trouble in the north." Aemon said making Jon's breath hitch.

The small pit associated with his northern family grew in the bottom of his stomach. His father always told him stories of his mother but nothing of the other Starks. As a child he always wanted to get to know them. As he got older his many attempts to know them were denied, his northern royal uncle didn't want anything to do with him. Jon always guessed his uncle was still bitter about how he was conceived. It did create some kind of anger in him but the Stark in him always yearned for the North.

"Yes, your precious Starks are in bit of a bind, brother." Aegon sneered.

"What do you mean trouble?"

"Raiders on the eastern coast and wildlings from the north."

"Has any word come about these recent happenings?" Jon asked in hope of the safety of his northern kin.

"None." Aegon answered sharply.

"This is all shocking news but that none of it explains your presence here, brother." Jon said in the politest way possible.

Aegon frowned, "Just a visit brother, before father left he expressed the need for the three of us to be close."

Jon struggled to keep his face from scrunching in disbelief. He knew for a fact that his father had always wanted his sons to be close. Aemon had done his best to be close to him but his mother always pulled him back. Aegon on the other hand had never been keen on him. Nonetheless, they were brothers and Jon would do as his father wanted.

"Summerhall is yours, your graces." He told them.

Jon ordered one of his servants to show his brothers to their rooms. He sat alone in his solar. Putting his head in his hands, he released a sigh that he didn't know he was holding in. His life had never been a simple one but as of late it had gotten a bit more complicated. He was made a lord and now his brothers had mysteriously appeared at his home. What else would happen, he thought.

"My lord." Jon's head snapped up seeing his maester.

Maester Corwyn was a middle aged man born in the Reach. In his short time as Lord of Summerhall he had come to find the man an anomaly. His personality was close to that of a warrior rather than a scholar. He was harsh yet respectful, Jon was thankful he had a man like him to help him run his keep.

"What is it Corwyn?"

"A raven arrived, this is for you." He handed him a folded piece of parchment.

" _Dark wings, dark words."_ Jon thought as he opened the letter.

As he was taught he carefully read each word. Easily he identified the handwriting as his father's. Terror jumped at his heart as he read on.

"Fetch my brothers!" He commanded, not even looking up.

Jon didn't have to wait long before his maester came back with his brothers in tow. The contents of the letter would surely fracture the peace.

"What is it, Jon?" Aegon asked.

Jon ignored the annoyance in his voice. This was of the most importance and he could care less about his brother's inner squabbles.

"Corwyn, you are dismissed. Aemon, close the door, now."

Hearing the urgency in his brother's voice, the young Targaryen quickly shut the door behind the maester. Jon could see he had their attention now. Not knowing how to reveal the newly found information, he thrust the letter into Aegon's hands.

"This must be some machinations of Stark. No one is foolish enough to attack, father." The crown prince shouted angrily.

"What? Someone attacked father?" Aemon asked confused.

"Lower your voice, Aegon." Jon hissed, "We cannot think such things without more information. Besides father was attacked as he left the Blackwater, King Eddard would have been too far away to do anything."

"Still defending the family that never wanted you. I will find out who did this and when I do, _dracarys._ "

"Father is fine, he wanted us to be wary but behave normally. He will handle it when he gets back in a fortnight."

"Besides, we've had no luck with our dragon eggs."

Aegon shot Aemon a scathing look. Jon looked at his brother's in surprise. He had remembered his father talking about obtaining dragon eggs but he did not know had succeeded in that endeavor.

"Come Aemon, goodnight Lord Frostburn." Aegon stepped out of the room before Jon could ask any further questions.

* * *

 **I know it's been a long while guys but my life has been in shambles. I won't go into detail but I lost three people very dear to me, a pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. But enough of that, the story is starting to progress, I hope you guys are liking it. I'm trying to flesh out the characters as I've made them and not as you know them from the books, at least not entirely. I can't promise that the next chapter will be out soon but I'll try. Until next time, LKnight out!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15: Time Will Tell**

* * *

 **Robb**

* * *

 _Winterfell, 299 AC_

Things were going to hell and fast. To the north an army of wildlings one hundred thousand strong had begun its march on the wall.

From the west his coastal lords were being harassed by what was believed to be ironborn longships. Though his western lords were faring quite well. After years of being allies with one of the foremost seafaring cultures in the known world, his father had adopted some of their ways. The two major castles on the west coast had received a charter to build a port and a small fleet no bigger than twenty ships.

Of the two Seareach had the largest, at the maximum twenty but only two war galleys. The _Iron Asha_ led the way, followed by the _Hunter's Howl_ , specially designed by his uncle Benjen and Lady Asha for one another. Both were hybrids and the first and only of their kind. Both built from ironwood, designed as a mix between a longship and a galley. They were wolves of the sea. Fast, agile and powerful. Born from the minds of Lady Asha and Ser Merrick Manderly, the captain of the Manderly Fleet. The ships were built for combat, though they hadn't really been put to use, sans chasing down rogue ships here and there.

Winterhold only held six ships but all were two decked dromonds. The ship's of House Frost were nothing special, but we're suitable to defend the northern west coast. Though if things kept moving on as they were, the defenses of the west coast would need to be reformed and built stronger.

Not even three days ago had he received a raven from the south that accused his father of attacking the southern Targaryen king. The fact that his father had not responded in his own defense worried him. That left the Prince in the south to act according to his thoughts. From the rare whispers of the south, Robb knew that Aegon Targaryen was a bit short tempered and quick to act. But to shatter the peace on the whims of a single letter, madness.

"God's be good, mother. When did things get so bad?" Robb asked massaging his forehead.

"We will get through this. The watch will hold until we can handle our eastern and southern border problems. Lord Commander Tywin will make sure of that." The Dornish queen responded.

"I've sent ravens to Theon and King Jon as you proposed. Now I must meet with father's bannermen."

"They are your bannermen as well, Robb. Remember that."

Robb sighed once more before kissing his mother on the forehead. He hoped the meeting would end quickly. Wynafryd had developed a slight bulge. He swelled with pride knowing that his child was growing inside the woman he loved.

He pushed the thought of his family aside as he walked into the council room. All the high lords of the north had been called to Winterfell, even a few minor. Robb quickly scanned the room. He quickly picked out the more important lords of the north thinking on how they rose with House Stark and the North after removing themselves from under Targaryen rule.

The lord of Last Hearth easily stood out with his massive frame and boisterous laugh. Robb had heard many stories of the Greatjon. Stories of his legendary strength and undying hatred for wildlings. It was his fabled strength made sure all goods exported and imported made it to their destinations. Almost no one dared attack a caravan under the protection of the Umbers.

Conversing with the Umber were three other large lords, Lord Dustin, Lord Manderly and his goodfather, Ser Wylis.

Lord Dustin was a known man in his own right. The Lord of Barrowton was a staunch supporter of his father. If war was to come, House Dustin would be important to the North's success, especially since their lands hosted the second largest cow herd in the north only behind House Stark.

The two Manderly men were two of the most important men in the realm after his father. Lord Wyman being the Lord of White Harbor, the biggest city in the north and Ser Wylis being the High Overseer. White Harbor had grown to exponential heights since the end of the rebellion, along with Winter town, Cold March and Rydon's Port, though latter had yet to be made an official city. But of them all, White Harbor grew the most. In small due to both men.

Contrasting his larger counterparts, Lord Bolton sat quietly. The Lord of the Dreadfort had come a long way. Taking advantage of the trading port held by the Umbers, Lord Roose requested a charter to build a small trading town at the mouth of The Weeping Water. His father approved it with one condition, the Starks would own it but it would be under the dominion of House Bolton. Of course the quiet lord accepted. It would've been unwise to give such control over the trade that came up the eastern river. The town of Silent Fall was raised and grew to be a small trading town, increasing the coffers of both House Stark and House Bolton.

Lords Glover, Karstark and Frost talked amongst themselves.

The Lords of the Wolfswood hadn't gained much since the separation from the iron throne. The most significant change was the rise in demand for the timber in their woods, the special ironwood that grew all around and near the lands of House Forrester.

The distant cousins of his family had surprisingly not benefited much from being independent but that wasn't saying much as they were still well off, at least in northern standards.

He noticed Lady Mormont and Lord Reed were missing. While it wasn't odd for Lord Reed not to leave Greywater Watch it was uncommon not to see the Lady of Bear Island.

"My prince." Robb nearly jumped at the hand planted on his shoulder. He turned to see the lady in question.

"Lady Maege." He nodded, he saw that all eyes were on him now. It would do well for him to begin.

Clearing his throat, he spoke, "My lords, all of you are well aware of the danger that approaches our borders. Today I come to you seeking advice, first we will address an age old problem, the wildlings. Lord Umber, as you have the most experience with this lot, the floor shall go to you first."

"The cocksuckers respond to nothing but steel. You try words and end up with a blade in the throat, I say we march and end these bastards once and for all."

The giant man's voice boomed throughout the room, getting approval from a select few. Robb, however did not agree with that. He could see that Lords Dustin, Frost and both the Manderly's felt the same. Though Lord Bolton gave away no emotion, Robb knew he wasn't one for such recklessness.

"Don't be a fool, boy." Lord Frost hissed, "The wall has stood generations, it will not fall now."

"There is no boy here. I'll gladly show you, old man." The Umber patriarch stood up, his chair smashing into the wall as he did.

The Lord of Winterhold didn't even bat an eye. He only reaction was a scoff. Robb could see the anger building in the Greatjon's eyes but he knew nothing would come of the man's anger. Lord Frost was respected throughout the lands as a legendary warrior. He had removed the black stain on his house's honor by bathing in the blood of raiders and enemies of the north.

"Enough my lords. We have important matters to tend to." Robb said firmly, a growl from Greywind letting them know he meant business.

"My prince, while Lord Umber is correct, partially." Ser Wylis earned a glare from the Umber lord, "Lord Frost is as well."

"The wall has faced many threats in all the years it has stood, but yet it still stands. Lord Commander Tywin has made the Watch something to respect again. He will hold until we can reinforce."

"So what do you suggest, Ser Wylis?" Robb asked.

Instead of Ser Wylis speaking, it was the elder Lord Manderly. Despite his large size Lord Wyman was never the center of attention, which was a great attribute for a man of his position.

"I have shadows in King's Landing that informed me of the opposition young Aegon is facing. He may be the crown prince but he cannot officially move without his father's approval. Though there are those that favor his choice of actions as well. But for now, it is not what we should worry about. The raiders to the west are more important, your grace."

"He is right, your grace. These mysterious sea raiders are disrupting the trade from the western coast. While the losses are nothing to severe as of now, I'm sure if we continue to let them be no one will trade with us in fear of loss of their product." Lady Maege spoke for the first time.

"From what I hear, they appear like shadows in the night and disappear just the same. How can we defeat an enemy we cannot even find?" Robb questioned his lords.

"By sea, my prince. They come from the sea." Ser Wylis answered.

Robb narrowed his eyes in confusion. Luckily Lord Wyman explained further.

"Usually we've no warning of these raiders until they attack but this last time we caught a trail. A cold one, but a trail nonetheless. Ser Merrick is a fine battle commander but an expert tracker he is not."

"Do we have man that can follow this cold trail?"

"I have just the man, your grace." Lord Wyman smiled.

Robb nodded, "Very well then. One more thing, does any of you know the whereabouts of Lord Baratheon?"

It had been days since he had last seen his father's closest friend. The large, loud man's presence was painfully obvious, yet no one had said anything about his absence.

Silence filled the room. All eyes searched the room for an answer. The winds seem to answer the silence.

"Robert isn't known for staying in one place, we all know. This time he has fair reasoning. He received a raven from one of his lieutenants. He left on urgent company business." His mother finally answered.

"As is his right. Now that is done, all matters have been discussed. We will meet again soon."

* * *

The days passed by quickly. Ser Davos Seaworth had been appointed High Admiral, at the personal reference of Lord Manderly himself. Robb had heard about the man. The smuggler who ended the war. Though it wasn't by choice, any man with Dawn at his neck would do whatever was asked.

Robb was extremely impressed with the man's naval knowledge. He could nod and try to understand as the man explained his plans.

"Is that suitable, your grace?" The lowborn lord asked.

"It is, Ser Davos. May I ask how did you become so knowledgeable of seafaring activities?"

"I come from nothing, the sea was an escape from the gutter I was born in. I've spent more of my life on the waves than on solid ground, you learn to survive in my former line of work, your grace."

Robb noticed the slight bow of his head as the man mentioned his former craft. He did not fault the man for being a former smuggler. In his short time knowing the man, he had shown to be a man to respect. He had his reasons, as every man did.

"I see. Your plans are well made. See that you coordinate with the captains of White Harbor, Seareach and Winterhold. I must attend to other business."

"It shall be done, your grace."

Robb gave a slight nod at the bowing man as he walked by. He trusted his seafaring commanders to get the job done. Being there would be more of a hinderance than help, he knew next to nothing about the sea. Instead he would be with his pregnant wife.

The thought of him being a father was still so unreal to him. But it was reality and he would do his best to ensure that his child would not have to be birthed into a world of war. But he wasn't so sure if he could do that. As he walked he looked around him he could see the beginnings of war. Men-at-arms training levies, servants bustling around doing their duty. The first keep was well and alive as the training of a regiment of Winter Wolves intensified. More goods, food, clothes, things needed to supply an army were being brought in from all over. A silent prayer was quickly sent to the Old Gods, in request that it would all be over soon.

"My prince, a raven has arrived for you. It bore two letters for you." Robb looked up to see the resident maester, Maester Luwin.

Robb silently took the letters hoping it was good news. The falcon of Arryn and the three headed dragon of House Targaryen sat proudly sealing the letters.

* * *

 **Eddard**

 _Shivering Sea, 299 AC_

" _Odd location for a dragon."_ Ned thought as clouds of misty ice rolled over the waves. The only remarkable thing was a wooden dragon's he's sticking out of a small glacier.

He could feel the cold creeping up skin. It reminded him of his home but it wasn't the same. His thoughts drifted to his family. He missed them dearly. Robb was now the Stark in Winterfell, ruling in his stead. He knew his heir would do well, as he groomed to do. He had his mother and his high council to help guide him. Alysanne was becoming a young woman, said to be a true beauty in Westeros, with martial skills to match it. She wasn't as wild as little Voria, his youngest daughter worried him, she was much like her aunt but he wouldn't try to contain her, only guide her. He wouldn't make the same mistakes his father did. Little Rickard wanted to be everything a Stark was meant to be, he would make sure he would grow to be a man that Robb could rely on. Then there was his most mysterious child. Owain. His second son was what he groomed him to be, Robb's backbone, but that wasn't his identity. Of all his children, he knew Owain the least and that would change. He felt guilty for sending his son away, he wasn't much a father to him at all.

All of this was for his family, the North too. His eyes scanned the area around him, his mind working. He found it odd that a warm-blooded being pick such cold place to meet. Ice and fire did not mix well.

"My king, a ship approaches." Jonos Frost said looking westward.

It was hard to see through the white clouds of mist but he saw a faint outline of the sigil on the large sail. As it got closer the red dragon became clearer but to his surprise another ship was trailing behind the Targaryen royal ship. The falcon of Arryn waved proudly.

"It's been a long time since the Falcon followed the dragon." Eddard said eyeing the arriving ships suspiciously.

"Trevyr, Jonos, prepare to board the barge." The two winterguard took their positions at the sides of their king.

Eddard pulled Ice to his back. Letting the ice in his veins flow freely, he was ready to meet with the other kings. His ship had already connected to the neutral ship. He noticed the captain of the ship waiting for him. A short, wide man with a beard that reached his stomach. He was clearly of Ibbenese descent.

The man nodded, "Ragga of Ibben Down. Cap'in o' dis ship."

Eddard nearly cringed at the thick accent.

"Eddard Stark, First of His Name, Lord of Winterfell, King of the North and First Men."

The man gave a slight bow of the head at the impressive roll call. Their introduction was cut short by the two kings boarding the barge. But once again Eddard was surprised. Walking with Rhaegar was an Arryn king but not his foster father. Rhaegar wore his signature midnight black armor, a large fur cloak wrapped itself around the lithe valyrian king. The Targaryen king did nothing to hide the severe burns that covered the left side of his face.

"King Eddard." Rhaegar spoke.

"King Rhaegar." Ned replied, more worried about the Arryn king.

"Eddard, it is good to see you. It seems you haven't let yourself go after all these years." Elbert Arryn spoke with a tired smile.

Elbert Arryn looked every part of a Arryn. Sandy blonde hair, angled chin and blue his old friend looked far older than he was. His eye were sunk and the blue of his eyes grew faint, his beard and hair were unkempt. Elbert was never the same after his run in with the kingsguard all those years ago. He struggled to keep his eyes off of Elbert's mangled leg. On his head sat a gold crown covered in emeralds and diamonds, not the crown Jon Arryn wore.

"Likewise, Elbert. I-I, where's Jon?" Dread made his belly ache. The thoughts running through his mind did not help.

Elbert's change of facial expression told Eddard all he needed to know. Yet, there was still a sliver of hope left within him.

"He is gone." Eddard felt almost all of his strength leave him, but he stood strong, "The Stranger took him in his sleep."

Eddard only nodded. Now was not the time to talk of the dead. It was time to talk of the realm as a whole.

"That is unfortunate, Jon was a good man. He will be missed."

"True, a good man as any. The Vale weeps his absence. Now he is with his family and the Seven." Elbert soothed.

"I apologize gentlemen but I believe we are here to discuss a very important matter." Rhaegar respectfully intervened.

"And what might that be?" Eddard asked cooly. He still wasn't sure of the purpose of this meeting.

Rhaegar had always been a sly man. Eddard never trusted first time he laid eyes on him at Harrenhal he felt something was off about the _Silver Prince._ His sweet charm and perfect smile set Eddard on edge. It had only gotten worse after the wildfire accident. Now his zealous attitude only made him more untrustworthy, his foreign god was not welcome in the North. There were rumors of his activities, some made Eddard shake in rage, others, well he didn't like to think about them.

"Chaos is being brought to all of our realms. The Iron Islands are collapsing without Quellon. Your lands are being terrorized by elusive raiders."

Ned kept a cool, unbothered look. He didn't know how Rhaegar knew of the shadow group attacking his trade routes but he would remain silent for the moment.

"And your lands and yours Elbert?"

"There have been multiple attacks on my life and those my children, though they are none the wiser."

" _Jon."_ Eddard thought. He always wondered about his nephew, Lyanna's son, but his attempts to meet the boy had always been thwarted somehow. Hopefully they would meet one day.

He heard Rhaegar raised the boy to Lord of Summerhall. Lord Jon Frostburn was his name. ' _The Cold That Burns',_ at least he hadn't forgotten where he came from.

"My lands are untouched, as of now. There is only the void that my uncle left." Elbert explained.

Eddard knew of the void. The loss of a king. House Stark and the north felt it. Jon had been king for far longer than his father had, so the impact was much worse. Jon had created connections that made the Vale prosper. Of the three seceded kingdoms, the Vale was the strongest. Unlike the North and the Iron Islands, the andal kingdom had powerful friends across the sea. Their trade agreements were far more fruitful. Jon had increased his family's power and wealth to new heights. Eddard followed his foster-father's footsteps in opening an account with the Iron Bank. Unfortunately Jon couldn't make his trade partners trade with the North. Though that wasn't to say the north was weak or hadn't made any progress.

"We are here to unite the realm as it should be. For too long have we been against each other. It is time we come together and make Westeros a grand place."

There it was. That twisted, sweet charm. Even in his opposition to Rhaegar he could feel a pull to agree with the man. Maybe it was some sort of sorcery, nonetheless it was futile. Rhaegar's madness was known to him. He knew of the _Silver Prince's_ taint. Westeros would not prosper with him at the helm, he would not condemn his people for the want of a single man.

"It is time to give up our crowns, Eddard. It was the stress of ruling a kingdom that killed my uncle. I will not let it do the same to me."

Eddard watched in horror as Elbert took the crown off his head and bent down on one knee. He couldn't explain the rush of emotions he felt as the bedazzled crown was given to the Targaryen king. Though a terrible thing, it wasn't much of a surprise. Elbert was dead on the inside. He just never expected an old friend to betray, then again neither had his father and Jon.

"I, King Elbert Arryn, Second of My Name, hereby renounce my throne."

Just like all those years ago, Rhaegar was the reason all smiles disappeared. The realm would bleed and he knew it.

"I, King Rhaegar, First of My Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Bringer of the Lord's Light, accept your crown and raise you as Lord Paramount of the Vale and Warden of the East."

"Our business here is done." Eddard steeled his face and turned to walk off the trade vessel.

"Stark!" Rhaegar called, "You can't fight this. Because of Lyanna, I'll give you some time to think it over. We'll meet again at daybreak, breaking our fast together."

The words carried through the air like an arrow from a bow, hitting him cleanly. A cold rage filtered through his body at the mention of his late sister. Forcing a growl in the back of his throat back down, he tried to calm himself. Without giving any outward reaction he kept walking.

"Prepare the ship to leave!" He barked as they boarded their transport home.

Things had just become dire. The north was in a tight situation. They had already lost an ally in the Iron Isles when Quellon died, now the Vale with Jon's death. Seems they were standing on their own. It shook him to think of the arduous path ahead of him and his people. Rhaegar and Elbert were up to something, what, he did not know but he wouldn't be caught sitting idle.

A pang of guilt hit him. His father was on his way to restoring the North to it's former glory and raising it beyond. He remembered one of the last conversations he had with his father. It ended with him promising that he would see the the North grow strong and stand on its own. He had failed him, but there was still time. First and foremost he would have use what resources he had to get what he needed.

Surveys would needed, many surveys. The North was vast and much of it was untouched. He would send men out to explore the lands in search of anything valuable. They few goods to use for trade, wool and timber being chief among them. He was sure he could find more valuables hidden within the body of the north. He had many ideas, some his own, some he inherited from his predecessors.

He would see about breeding the cows of the north with the powerful oxen of Skagos. In order to do so he would have to treat with the stone-born lords. Despite their oaths to Winterfell and House Stark, Skagos had operated independently since their semi successful rebellion against Lord Jonnel 'One Eye' Stark. Now was the time to officially bring them into the North. If he was successful in breeding the animals, he hoped the result would gain the best attributes of both and none of their weaknesses. It would give them a new source of food, as well as strong field animals.

Hopefully the revenue from his ideas would provide for the building of new keeps and most importantly the canal his father dreamed of. Beginning at Torrhen's Square and ending at the White Knife. There would be smaller canals built but that was his main concern of the sort. But first he had to get home.

But fate would not have it an easy trip. Snapping his head neck towards the Ibbish barge he heard screaming. His eyes quickly found the arrows flying through the air.

"Get down, your grace." He was drug to the ground by his Chief Commander.

"Cut the ropes, get this ship moving!" Eddard roared.

He would not sit around and way to be fired on. Though he felt something was amiss. But he had no time to think, only move.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 16: Slumbering Beasts**

* * *

 **Viserys**

* * *

 _Myr, 299 AC_

The year was coming to an end and things couldn't have gone any better for the exiled prince. His plans, or more like his father's plans were coming to life There was war in the west. Somehow his brother had found an excuse to declare war on the Stark's. This time the wolves had no allies. The Greyjoys were in disarray and the Arryns had turned their backs on them. While it didn't do well for his brother to gain more power, it would serve as an excellent distraction.

He didn't need his brother putting his burned nose in his business. His lilac eyes landed on the men bowing at his feet. Seven men, all chained at the wrist and ankle. The conclave they were called, the leading magisters of Myr. The people of Myr fell easily to the populace of slaves and his savage good brother and his horse had come quickly and sacked the city, killing slave and free men alike. He let the Khal take his riches and slaves but the city was his. He had held the city for near a week and still he faced some resistance.

"Your grace, these men are the leaders of Myr. I suggest-."

"You know what to do." Viserys ordered.

"I do, it shall be done, sire." Asalyr answered with no question.

A nod was given to the soldiers stationed at the door and the men were taken away, their screams echoed the halls. For their defiance they would be used to further his plans. He picked Myr as his first target for a reason. Myr was home to many religions and wise men. Asalyr informed him of a certain book residing in a temple of the Valyrian god Teraxi.

As they were, three of the nine Free Cities would be his. Pentos had come easily, men were greedy and ambitious. Promises that he might or might not fulfill were all that was needed. Myr was his and next would be Tyrosh. But he was sure his abrasive takeover would slow down. Essos had been put on alert and the other Free Cities were expecting him. He had even heard some were aligning themselves.

Viserys had no worries, for he was the dragon come again. His father wasn't much of a man but he was a true dragon. He didn't bow to anyone and imposed his will where he pleased but in the end he was consumed by his own fire. Viserys wouldn't let that happen.

"Servant!" An old man with markings on his face answered his new liege's call.

"There's a wizard's guild here, yes?"

The man silently shook his head.

"I want you to take this letter to them. It is not to be opened or even looked upon. You give it and leave, not a word to them. Am I understood?"

The slave once again answered with a silent nod. Viserys didn't notice it at first but the lack of verbal response but at his nerves. He knew himself to have an imposing presence but he did not like such a silence. He didn't trust silent men.

"Slave, why do you not speak?"

The slave hung his head for moment before bringing it back up. Opening his mouth, half of a tongue was shown. Viserys fought the urge to gag at the sight of mutilated muscle. With a quick wave of his hand, the slave was off to do his duty. All he had to do was wait.

It didn't take long for his slave to yield results. Though to his surprise, it wasn't the slave that returned. Standing at the doors of the throne room held back by the spears of his newly acquired unsullied was what he suspected to be a myrish wizard, due to his dress and the queer feeling he was getting from him. The man was dressed in a dark robe, so dark you might mistake it for black but he could see hints of red in it. A mask of the same color covered the top half of his face. Only his mouth was visible, showing his sickly pale white skin. But the most interesting detail was the staff in his hand.

From afar Viserys could see it's immense beauty. At a single glance he could tell it was made of valyrian steel. The way the light was absorbed into it's smoky complexion gave it away. But Viserys found found his attention being drawn to the stone sitting stop the staff. It was the darkest red he'd ever seen. Blood red. He felt something, it was like his entire self was being drawn into the stone. Slowly the world began to wind away being replaced by a dreary background. A sense of urgency filled him as terror rose in his heart. There was no actual physical action but he put his all in trying to get away from the pull. He could his heart beat in his ears as he felt himself disappearing. A sense of hopelessness began its dominance as his resistance seemed futile. It felt as if he was being pulled from this life and into the next.

" _You are a dragon, you do not submit!"_

His father's voice boomed in his head. If was one thing his father taught him, it was the power of his blood, dragon's blood. Feeling the fire light in his belly, the exiled prince released a feral roar. Soon he could feel himself be whole again, the world shifted back into view. He snapped his eyes away from the staff and onto the wizard. A faint smile was sent his way.

"Seize him!" Viserys had never felt such a feeling in his life.

"My king." the wizard said calmly, "I meant no harm, merely doing my duty."

Viserys didn't like how calm the man sounded.

"Your duty!"

"Yes, my king. Allow me to explain."

Viserys thought on it. He requested a wizard for a very important reason. It wouldn't do well to make an enemy of them at the moment. His father would have had him killed with no hesitation but he was not his father. For all the love he held for his father, he would not become him.

"Speak, and fast, my patience eludes me."

"My brethren and I dreamed of a great white dragon sweeping across Essos. The dragon conquered all until it met a gold dragon."

The wizard stiffened before a blade shot forth from his chest. Blood spattered everywhere. The Targaryen conqueror sat silently in shock.

"Never trust the words of a wizard." Viserys watched as Asalyr and Taenys appeared behind the now dead wizard.

"Well done, take his body to the fire chamber." Viserys announced with a grin.

He had everything he needed to fulfill what his great-grandfather could not. Today would be the day dragons would be welcomed back into the world.

* * *

 **Robb**

 _Winterfell, 299 AC_

"His-his grace, your father has docked at White Harbor. He is wounded but he is well enough to ride. He says he will be here within the week."

A roar of excitement went through the council room. Robb sat silently, taking in the news. Inwardly he was extremely excited and relieved to know that his father was coming back. Outwardly he had to remain calm and retain his lord's face.

"Then all will be well. The north shall stand strong against all its enemies."

* * *

The day had come, his father was nearing Winterfell. Unable to wait for his father to reach their home, Robb left to meet him, followed by his ever present grey shadows, Garen and Hal. Grey Wind ran at his master's side, easily keeping up.

It wasn't long before they sat Winter Wolves, though smaller than before, that left with his father. Oddly enough, Martyn Cassel was not at the head of them. As they got closer Robb noticed the signs of battle. Blood stained the armor of many of the men, including his father. Looking closer he saw the bloody bandages wrapped across his father's stomach and the limp in his walk. Keeping himself composed Robb steeled his face as he neared his father. It was only when his father embraced him as he had only done when he was a child that he let his icy facade shatter.

"Father, I've missed you, the north has missed you."

"I am back." Eddard released his embrace, "Come, we must go. There is much to be done."

The days flew by. Plans were being made. Then came the preparations for those plans. Robb had come to respect his father even more-something he thought impossible- in the week that he had been back. He hadn't a moment's rest since the morning following his return.

He spent his mornings meeting with his lords. By evening he was planning the growth of the north in various ways. It amazed him at his father's plans. If all went right the north would find it's solitude unbothered.

* * *

The day had come. He and his father, along with with a group of men-at-arms, would travel to the southern edge of the north to meet with the southern king. If talks went well, war could be avoided, if not, westeros would bleed once more.

A thousand thoughts flew through his head as his pregnant wife helped him with his doublet. It didn't help that he felt her hands shaking as she pulled it over his head. Turning he met her tear filled eyes.

"Don't cry, my love." He gently wiped a tear as it fell.

"I cannot help it. There could be war, Robb. I-." She glanced down at her stomach, "We could lose you."

"It is necessary, Wynnie. The Targaryens have threatened our peace again. House Stark cannot and will not let it stand. Our people trust us to protect them and so we shall. By any means necessary."

Despite his own fears of war, his sense of duty was stronger. But his love for his family is what would keep him alive if war the outcome.

"I love you Wynafryd Stark and I love our child. That is why I will come back."

In silence he held her. Her tears stained his brigandine. As usual her own sobs lulled her into deep slumber. Gently laying her down and tucking her in, he prepared to leave. Placing two soft kisses on her, one on her forehead and one on her stomach. The prince of the North gave a silent goodbye as he cast one last glance.

He had to set his mind right. The road to victory would be one filled with death, sorrow and hard decisions. He quickly made his way to the King's Gate. He found his father waiting for him, surrounded by six of the nine Winterguard. Theo Wull and Aethan Blackmyre would stay back to protect the Starks remaining in Winterfell. Ser Mark, had been sent to the Iron Islands with a detachment of Winter Wolves on a diplomatic mission.

His father seemed different. He had always been a hard man, as the north made you, but there was something different.

Goodbyes had already been given. His father didn't want his mother or his siblings out while they left. With nothing left to do, his father gave the command to march.

The march to Moat Cailin would usually take a bit over week or so but they were marching with due haste.

During their journey Robb had noticed a difference in the north. Where as usually the lands would be near void of life, he saw many men performing a multitude of jobs. He saw men in the fields, tending to the hard earth of the north. Caravans carrying men that didn't belong to his homelands, foreign men. Men and women handpicked by his father trekked across the harsh lands in search of anything valuable. The thought of the North rising once more brought a smile to his face. His father was truly a great man. He had done so much in so little time and there was so much more to do.

Though these moments of admiration did not block the fact that they could possibly be marching to war soon. He hoped it wouldn't come to battle. Enough blood, southern and northern, had been spilled in wars past. If Rhaegar was a true and just king then he would listen to reason and let peace continue to reign.

"Robb!" His father's voice interrupted, "I know there is much going on but it is exactly times like this where we must keep our minds focused."

"Yes father." Robb answered, feeling abashed.

"What are your thoughts on the Iron Islands?"

"I think it was dangerous to send Ser Mark. From what I know of the Ironborn or Euron Greyjoy specifically, things will not be sorted with reason but treachery and blood."

Robb hated to say it, as it meant Theon was in danger but it was the reality of things. The eldest living son of the _Old Kraken_ was known for his backstabbing and uncaring habits. While Ser Mark and his wolves would usually strike fear into those they were presented to, Ironborn were different. Their pride in their people, their culture, gave them a deep buried stubbornness.

In the weeks leading up to his father's reemergence, an interesting event had occurred. Theon had chosen a wife to strengthen his position of the upcoming kingsmoot. Grita Farwynd, daughter of Lord Farwynd had become Grita Greyjoy. Though from what Robb knew of the inhabitants of the Iron Islands, House Farwynd wasn't much liked. Robb didn't know his friend's reasoning behind the marriage but he would trust him, he had to.

"Aye, but any day on the isles is a dangerous one. They're a careless folk. Blood will be spilled, Euron is not a reasonable man, even by ironborn standards. Theon will need us, as we need him. Ser Mark will do his duty. When war comes none of Westeros will be left untouched."

Robb took his father's words in. It was all real. Westeros was in turmoil and only blood and steel would solve it, but one thing could halt it. Winter. And as his family said, _Winter is Coming._ No ironborn, wildling or Targaryen could stop it.

The rest of the trip went routinely. Though as the days passed he could feel the air get colder. Winter was slowly creeping onto Westeros. The day they arrived at Moat Cailin he felt a chill slink up his spine.

" _The Old Gods speak through the wind. What are they saying?"_ Robb thought to himself.

The new design of Moat Cailin was a sight to see and this was just one of the five sides of the fortress. Just like the other sides, four towers stood, built into the massive black wall, with a single gate to enter and exit.

"Father, why did you change the layout of Moat Cailin?" Robb didn't understand. Moat Cailin had been impregnable even in its incomplete state. Why would his father spend unnecessary winter coins to redesign it.

His father sat in silence, as if pondering his reasons.

"My father, your grandfather died because we thought it was impenetrable."

Robb felt the pain exuding from his father as he spoke of his predecessor. The young prince held a great amount of respect for his grandfather. If not for him, they would still be stuck under the dragon's claw,

"After returning north I walked every piece of land the Moat sat on. Every entry or exit way that I found, I planned accordingly. With help from some our best masons, I came up with this design."

Compared to the former size, Moat Cailin had become near a city on its own. It housed twenty men who were masters of each tower and one lord who resided over them all. The eventual lord would hold the Elder Tower, a tower in all but name. It now spanned across much more land than it had before. Whenever his father officially appointed a lord of Moat Cailin, that man would become very powerful. For now it was held by it's castellan, Ser Rodrik Cassel, brother of Ser Martyn.

Robb sighed in relief as he dismounted his horse. His eyes wandered curiously at the inner walls of the fortress. Men of multiple houses manned the high walls. Massive scorpions and ballistae lined the walls. Robb pitied any force that matched upon the Moat.

"Come Robb, the lords await us."

They marched to the Elder Tower, which was actually once a tower that was expanded into a keep once his father redesigned Moat Cailin.

The most respected and powerful lords of the North sat in the council room.

"My lords, there is business to be handled. The dragons threaten our peace. Rhaegar falsely accuses me of attacking him at a ambush of his own making."

There grumbles but his father held a hand up silencing them.

"Our long time ally and a dear friend, King Jon Arryn is no longer among the living and a friend thought to be in Elbert Arryn has turned his back on us. Quellon is dead and with him the allegiance of the Iron Islands. We are alone once more."

This time his words were met with a disapproving uproar. His father sat for a moment, letting his lords release their anger. Finally his hand was raised again and silence fell once more.

"They want the crown and they can have it."

Robb's eyes widened at his father's words. He could see the same reaction on some of the other lords. Though some looked indifferent.

"You would give-!" The Greatjon began only to be cut off.

"Silence, Lord Umber." His father growled. He did not raise his voice but it was projected throughout the room.

"I said I would give them the crown but not our freedom. It is only a piece of metal, our freedom is not this crown. Our freedom is represented by the blood spilled by our fallen brethren. The smiles on our children's faces. The ability to make our own choices, not this crown. But do not worry, Jon, they can't have the crown either."

Laughter erupted from the mouths of the lords of the north. Robb couldn't help but smile himself. His father had a way with words. You would never think it from his cool, silent demeanor.

"Tomorrow will decide the fate of westeros. If Rhaegar is wise he will continue with peace, as winter comes. But we all know of the thread of madness within all Targaryens. There is only hope that Rhaegar does not once again grasp hold of his thread of madness."

For a moment everything went deathly silent. A chill crept into the council room, causing the occupants to shiver. Then his father spoke again.

"For if he does, he will find one does not wake a sleeping beast."


End file.
